Star Trek: The Third Generation
by R.J. Anderson
Summary: Before DS9, before VOY, before the end of TNG, the saga of 3GEN was created. Experience the adventures of the Enterprise-F and its remarkable crew as they begin their voyages into the unknown...
1. United We Stand

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
ST:3GEN was created and written in 1991-92 by myself and a group of my fellow users on Shadowlands BBS, an independent bulletin board system in London, Ontario, Canada. 

Before TNG completed its run, before DS9 or VOY ever aired, 3GEN anticipated many plot and character elements that would later become part of canon: a red-haired workaholic female captain, a cynical shapeshifter, a Borg crew member, the return of Moriarty, and many other details that we had no idea were going to occur to the "official" Trek scriptwriters as well. So, if James N'Dok seems oddly like Julian Bashir, or the idea of a hologram as part of the crew strikes you as old hat, try to remember that we actually had both ideas first. 

As for any radical differences or departures from later Trek canon (of which I'm sure there are at least some in this story), put it down as an alternate timeline. If you have half as much fun reading these stories as our group did writing them, I'll be very well satisfied. 

* * *

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #1: "United We Stand" 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Captain Gabriele Lester....................Lori Hewson  
Commander Jacqueline Picard................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Lt. Commander Barnabas Cole................Warren Postma  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  


* * *

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack sat in Ten-Forward nursing a cup of Earl Grey and a tension headache that would have killed a healthy Klingon. "You can't have a headache," her mother would have said. "We cured headaches long ago." Mind you, she'd said the same thing to Jack's father just before that whole mess over the U.S.S. _Stargazer_ blew up and Ferengi started popping out of the woodwork. 

Jack was pretty sure there weren't any Ferengi hanging around this sector trying to mess with her mind, but that was small comfort. A battle with the Ferengi would be a welcome relief from the strain she felt right now. 

The Captain was being impossible. Again. They hadn't told Jack about this when she'd been promoted. Or maybe they had, and she'd been too wrapped up in the thrill of signing on with the legendary _Enterprise_ to notice. 

"Can I sit down?" 

Jack looked up to see Guinan standing over her. "What? Oh, yes, of course." She liked the woman, but she found it distracting that she had no eyebrows. It always made her want to take out a pencil and draw some on. 

Guinan looked back at her with coffee-coloured, startlingly candid eyes. "You're very like your mother, you know. When I see you, it's like watching her ghost. Until you open your mouth, and then I _know_ who your father is." 

"Was," corrected Jack automatically. 

Guinan shrugged. "Do you see Wesley much?" 

Jack shook her head, staring into the steaming depths of her tea. "Hardly at all. He's got a lot on his mind since he took the chair." 

"I hear the _Victoria_'s a good ship." 

"Not as good as this one. I told him he should have stuck it out, but who am I?" 

"His sister." 

"Half-sister." 

"It doesn't make any difference to him. He adores you, you know that. But he wasn't about to step on your toes. From what I hear, nobody, but _nobody_ wants to do that." Guinan smiled. "Wesley's a good Captain. He was getting too old to be playing First Officer anyway. Someday this ship will come to him...but until then, you're here. There's a Crusher on the _Enterprise_, and that's all that matters." 

"I wish it were," muttered Jack. 

"Jacqueline," said Guinan softly, leaning forward, "just let it go. You're new here. It's hard, but it'll pass. Soon you won't be able to remember a time when you didn't love this ship and everybody in it like your own breath and blood." 

"Even the Captain?" 

"Even," said Guinan with a half-smile, "the Captain." 

"You sound like a prophetess," said Jack. "I hope you are." 

"Trust me." 

"Commander Jacqueline Picard," said the intercom, "report to the bridge." 

"Responding," said Jack, getting up from her seat. She looked longingly back at her cup of tea (Earl Grey, hot), flickered a smile at Guinan and headed out the door. 

Guinan picked up Jack's tea and sipped it thoughtfully. She made a face and put it down. "Gods, Jean-Luc," she murmured to the stars shooting by outside, "what did you ever see in this stuff?" 

* * * 

From: Doctor James N'dok 

Medical Log - Stardate 59801.2

It has been 2 hours since the alien infection invaded Starbase 133. Approximately 20% of the crew and 30% of the colonists have been infected. I am working on a solution in which to heal the ailment: however, all tries so far have been unsuccessful. The disease causes terrible rotting of the skin. I have called the disease "Annexia" and am looking for a cure. It does not respond to conventional treatment. I only hope the cure comes soon... 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"Hello, Dr. N'Dok," said Jack to the familiar face on the council room monitor, "and how are we feeling today?" 

"Gads, you're just like your mother sometimes." 

Jack half-smiled at the rueful tone in James' voice. "She was pretty hard on you, as I recall." 

"But a good teacher." 

"I know. I'm sure the folks at Starbase 133 will be sorry to see you go." 

James' eyes went wide. "Go? You mean I've been accepted?" 

"Certainly. You'll like Captain K'anrok, I hear the D'Ken's a good ship--" 

"A Klingon ship? I didn't even--Jack, you'd better be kidding me." 

"We referred you," said Jack serenely. "We'll be taking Dr. Saalen on when we get to Starbase 68--you remember Dr. Saalen, don't you? I hear you and she were great friends back on Delta- V..." 

"You've _got_ to be kidding me." 

N'Dok sounded so desperate that Jack couldn't help but laugh. "Of course I am, James. Congratulations, and I'll be the first one to welcome you on board the _Enterprise_. We'll be docking at Starbase 133 at 0900 hours." 

"Jack," said James, "when I get on that ship, I'm going to take you down to Ten Forward, and buy the biggest stein of synthehol you ever did see--" 

"Yes?" 

"--and pour every last drop of it over your head." 

"Transmission ends," said Jack blithely, and reached over to switch off the viewscreen. 

"No," said James. "Not yet." 

Now he sounded serious. Jack sat back in her chair and said quietly, "What is it?" 

"There's disease here. A bad one, Jack. I've tried everything I could think of, but it isn't enough. I don't know how long it'll take to bring it under control. It may not even be safe for the _Enterprise_ to dock at the Starbase until I can find the cure." 

"That bad?" asked Jack. 

"Yeah. That bad." 

"I'll notify the Captain. Keep in touch, and if we can help in any way, let us know." 

"Tell me," said James. "Was there any...opposition to my application for C.M.O.?" 

"Well, the Captain didn't know you very well," mused Jack, "and I had to supply some background detail... but otherwise, no. Not from me, if that's what you want to know." 

"The Captain didn't--" James looked baffled. "Jack, I thought your half-brother was Captain of the _Enterprise_!" 

"Wesley? No. He's on the _Victoria_, for now at least." 

"So who's your Captain, then?" 

Jack took a deep breath. "You'll meet her soon enough. I've got to go, James. See you in a few hours." 

"I sure hope so," said James fervently, and the viewscreen went black. 

* * * 

From: Doctor James N'dok 

"Doctor!" said the voice over the intercom. 

"Yes, Commander?" 

"N'Dok! The Annexia has become VERY, VERY serious... casualties have risen to 500. And James..." The Commander sounded very worried. "The Admiral has it. It's pretty serious." 

James got himself a stress injection. His anxiety levels were very high, and he felt frustrated beyond belief. 

"Understood, sir..." 

"N'Dok. You're a GOOD doctor, an EXCELLENT doctor. Remember? You're going to be the new C.M.O on the _Enterprise_." 

"One disease. I was trained on Delta V! How...?!" 

"Just keep trying... That's all we can expect." 

"Yes, Commander." 

After a brief conversation with the computer, he left the room to visit Starbase 133's Counsellor. 

"James!" said the Counsellor as he entered her office. 

"Hello, Aliana. How are you?" 

"Fine. But you aren't... What's wrong?" 

James gazed speechlessly into the dark, warm eyes of Starbase's 133's Counsellor. 

"Sit down," she commanded. 

"Huh?" 

"Sit!" Aliana was a very aggressive woman. Not many disobeyed her. 

He sighed. "All right. I know you're going to drag it out of me... So... I may as well tell you." 

"Go on." 

"You've seen the effects of Annexia, right?" 

Aliana paused for a moment. "Yes. I have." 

"I can't cure it. I'm a Doctor, Aliana. TRAINED on Delta V. I can't cure it." 

"James. Don't be so hard on yourself. You know you're trying. We know. Just do your best. That's all we can expect." 

James bolted up. 

"Yeah? Well maybe my best just isn't good enough!" 

He stormed off out of the room. Aliana's cry of "James!" was never heard. 

* * * 

From: Mac Moore 

Mac stared at his computer screen with horror. "What the blazes is that? I must notify the Captain immediately!" 

"Engineering to bridge!" Mac's voice was noticibly agitated. 

"Bridge acknowledged." It was the voice of Jacqueline Picard. What had happened to the Captain? Mac had been on the _Enterprise_ now for over a week, and he had still to meet or see the Captain. He was beginning to wonder if the _Enterprise_ had a Captain. Although Commander Picard was more than efficient at filling in for the Captain, whoever that was. 

"What's up, Mr. Moore?" 

"Well, there's some sort of field breaching the hull. The usual sensors don't seem to pick it up. I wouldn't have noticed except the field seems to be causing strange fluxuations in the warp drive." 

"Okay, Mr. Moore. Give us a full analysis and report in one hour. Bridge out." 

* * * 

From: Captain Gabriele Lester 

Captain Lester was standing in the doorway of her Ready Room and the Bridge. She'd heard the conversation between Mr. Moore and Commander Picard. No one seemed to notice her, and that's the way it seemed to have been ever since she arrived at her new command. 

She knew very well the capabilities of her First Officer, and was comfortable enought to leave her the Comm. for the time being. It took time for a crew to become used to a new Captain, and a new ship. Most of the _Enterprise_'s complement was made up of new but competent crew members. Captain Gabriele Lester felt it best to stand back and observe the workings of the new crew, and their relationship with their new 'home', the proud flagship of the Federation. If the crew knew they were being observed, or even aware that their new Captain was assessing them, they would be stiff and possibly too eager to please, thus not show her a proper sampling of their behavior. 

However, Gabriele was both impressed and disappointed with her new First Officer. True, her capabilities were outstanding--they would have to be--yet the tension between them would be a source of great stress for both of them, if not resolved soon. Professional respect was one thing, but the relationship between Captain and First Officer would have to be one of total trust and an almost single mind to be shared. At least, that was her opinion. 

Gabriele had not gone through Starfleet through the command channels, but the sciences. For three years, she served aboard the U.S.S. _Excalibur_ as C.M.O. before making the difficult transfer from Blue to Red. She had even had the honour of meeting Dr. Crusher, her First Officer's mother. Jacqueline was very much like her mother, and much like Gabriele herself, perhaps that was part of their problem. 

"Commander Picard," she said in an authoritative voice. The Commander turned to her, momentarily surprised at her presence. 

"Yes, sir?" she replied. 

"Can I see you in my Ready Room please?" Gabriele gave the Bridge to Lieutenant Berringer, and headed into the Ready Room. Jack followed. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"How may I help you, Captain?" said Jack. She stood before Lester's desk, head held high, legs braced and hands behind her back in formal salute. 

Gabriele shook her head ruefully. "At ease, Number One. If there's anyone on this whole ship who should be able to relax in the presence of their Captain, it's you." 

Jack let her hands drop to her sides, and assumed a more comfortable position. "As you wish, sir." 

"Please, don't call me sir," said Gabriele. "You make me sound like a modern Major General." 

A ghost of a smile touched Jack's lips. So the Captain had a sense of humour after all. Perhaps she had judged this woman too harshly. She wasn't ordinarily the type to jump to conclusions about people, but something about this woman had rubbed her the wrong way when they'd first met a week ago on Starbase 165. Funny, though, the more she thought about it the more she couldn't really remember what it was. 

"Tell me, Commander," said Gabriele, getting up from her seat and walking over to stand by Jack's side, "do you not feel that a Captain and a First Officer should be able to work together?" 

"I do, yes." 

"But it seems to me that something is hindering us. Neither of us is foolish enough to think that in a mere seven days two strangers can become the best of friends, but it would lift a great burden from my mind if we could at least get to know each other a little. Do you know that half the ship doesn't seem to know I exist? You've been doing my work for me." 

Jack stiffened. "I beg your pardon." 

"Don't mistake me," warned Gabriele. "I am not criticizing your performance in the least. You show an almost alarming competence. I do know that before the _Enterprise_ picked me up at Starbase 165, you were in command. Only for a little while, of course, but still it's not an easy thing to give up." 

"No," said Jack quietly. 

"However," Gabriele continued in a crisper voice, "we are all called upon to make sacrifices. No doubt you will indeed be a Captain someday. But at this point you are my First Officer, and I would very much like to see you work in that capacity." 

Jack was silent. 

"Do you understand?" asked Captain Lester. 

"It is required in stewards," said Jack unexpectedly, "that one be found faithful. She who is faithful in little will also be faithful in much." She smiled, and her eyes met Gabriele's for the first time since the interview began. "I have been under some strain of late. But I will be a good steward of the trust you have placed in me, Captain." 

"I could wish for nothing more," said Gabriele. "Now. Shall we conduct the interview with our Chief of Engineering? I hear that Lieutenant Commander Moore has discovered something rather...unusual." 

"Certainly," said Jack. "I'll call him in." 

* * * 

From: Doctor James N'dok 

"The CURE!" exclaimed James, leaping up from his computer console. "THIS COULD BE IT!" 

He pressed his communicator. 

"Commander?" 

"Yes? James? Is that you?" 

"Yes Commander! I think I've found a cure!" 

"A cure? Are you sure?" 

"Well, I'm not positive yet, but I'm going to try it with a patient." 

"Do that." 

Silence. The excitement grew in him. JACK! he thought. I've GOT TO tell Jack! 

* * * 

From: Barnabas Cole 

Barnabas Cole lay in bed, long awake, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Commander Cole?" 

The young female voice over the intercom held poorly concealed traces of excitement. 

He twisted until his arms could reach the console. He gave his bed a fond look over his shoulder and stood up. 

"Barnabas here... What have you got Krystan?" 

"Yes, Sir. The tests have all been finished. Half of the samples have been contaminated, but the uncontaminated ones are still alive and working. From our first results I'd estimate that with an air recycler built with these active cells, we can turn water into air supplies." 

"Uhh. What was in the contaminated specimens?" 

"Nicotine, sir." 

"These bacteria have a habit? Fascinating. We'll talk later." 

His voice took on the tone of a father reproving a daughter. There was a slight pause, a stifled laugh in the background. 

"If you say so, sir. Krystan out." 

Starfleet was forever given Barnabas Cole the tasks that nobody else wanted. When it came to anything toxic or anything that most teams were too scared to do, Barnabas Cole was given the job. Now, rather unexpectedly, he had been pulled away from the mining planets which he had been assigned to and had been assigned to the _Enterprise_, the proudest and the fastest, the flagship of Starfleet's Nova class ships. 

Barnabas walked to the food dispenser. 

"Barnabas Cole. Special diet C-7-A." 

The dispenser hummed to life. A large glass mug filled with a strong black liquid appeared. He grabbed it and headed to the back of his cabin. The starscape visible through his viewport held a planet in the lower left corner. He saw his own face in the window, and quickly turned away. He ran his fingers through his silver-gray hair, set down his coffee and set off with purposeful strides towards the turbo-lifts. 

A younger self smiled from a picture on his commode; his hair was black, his fair skinned features had been chiselled out sharply, and his eyes were a shade of hazel. As the door closed behind him, he pushed down thoughts of the man who had been forever lost, closed his silver eyes, and paused a moment. His lips moved in the silence, while the turbo-lift carried him to the bridge. 

His first day of duty on the Starship _Enterprise_ had begun. 

Jacqueline Picard was standing outside the turbolift as the door opened. He stood and looked fearfully at her, hoping perhaps she wouldn't recognize him. For the first time that day, Barnabas Cole didn't know what to say. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack stared at the silver-haired, silver-eyed, pale-skinned man in Starfleet gold as though seeing a ghost. She had expected to see Chief Engineer Moore in the turbolift; instead, there was...him. 

"You?" she whispered. 

"Yes." 

"But you left Starfleet. You said you were never coming back after the--" 

"The incident. Yes. But I have the right to change my mind, do I not?" 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Didn't they tell you? I've been signed on as Science Officer." 

"Science--" Her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat and went on, "That's quite a step up, isn't it?" 

"I haven't been idle these past two years, you know." 

"You never were." 

"Look who's talking," said the figure with a slightly nervous laugh. "Last time we talked, you were just a Lieutenant on the Copernicus. Now you're here--and First Officer, at that." 

"Yes, well... it was something I had to do." 

"And that's the way I feel about coming back." 

"Did anybody--recognize you?" 

He shook his head. "Only you. And I'm glad of it, really. I got tired of being poked at by every doctor and scientist in Starfleet... and after a few months I made sure they got pretty tired of me too. That part's over. For now, anyway." 

"Good," said Jack. She stepped aside, let him pass by on his way to the Ops console. The Lieutenant who'd been sitting in the chair quietly got up and left as Barnabas approached, though not without a curious glance at his superior's strange appearance. 

The glance would have been somewhat more than curious, thought Jack ruefully, if the Lieutenant had only known how Barnabas Cole had become that way. Jack had been there when the incident happened. She'd seen it all. But Barnabas had made her promise not to tell anyone, and she wasn't about to break that promise now. 

She took a deep breath, composing herself, and turned back to the Captain's ready room. No doubt Lt. Cmdr. Moore would put in his appearance there soon. 

* * * 

From: Mac Moore 

"Captain Lester, I'm Chief of Engineering Moore. I've got a report about a strange warp field oncoming from Starbase 133." 

"Yes, I know who you are Chief Moore. Have a seat please. You've met Commander Picard of course?" 

"Yes, Captain, I have." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Might I say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Captain." 

"Oh...ah, yes. Let's have that report, Chief." 

"Well there's not much to tell. Except that the source seems to have disappeared. It was just a steady pulse, getting stronger as we neared the Starbase, and then nothing. But I managed to locate the source. It was coming from the medical section of the Starbase." 

"Nothing else to report, Chief?" 

"No Captain, that's all I can tell you. One minute it was there, the next...gone!" 

"Thank you Chief Moore. Dismissed." 

"Thank God for that!" whispered Mac to himself as he left the room. I guess I'll get to the bottom of it some other time, he thought. I don't think I want to stick around for a cat fight either. Commander Picard didn't say a word the whole time I was in there. Scary! 

With those thoughts slowly dwindling off, Chief Mac Moore returned to engineering. 

* * * 

From: Captain Lester Captain Lester watched the Chief Engineer nervously walk out of the chambers. She was rather pensive about the latest occurances that were keeping the ship from gaining the remainder of its crew. The doctor in her, that was still very consuming despite her new position, made her wish she could aid the new C.M.O. in his search for the cure. But, her duties were now far more wide in scale and she couldn't allow herself the luxury of delving yet again into the world of complicated cell structures and electrical/chemical reactions that made up the human body, no matter how tempting. 

The Captain now turned to the Commander who looked to be concentrating on something. Her eyebrows were closely knit together. 

"Interesting man Number One," said Gabriele, her chair now turned facing Jack. The Commander, taken away from her thoughts, looked at Gabriele as she continued, "Very nervous though, he looked as if he expected one of us to bite him. Perhaps he should run a diagnostic on his own food replicator; his coffee may contain too much caffeine." 

Jack smiled. "You may very well be correct, sir..." then paused and corrected herself, "Captain." The thought that she had been lucky to have such a First Officer as Jack crossed Gabriele's mind. Her impression had improved 100% now that they have spoken more. 

"I tell you what Number One, when we are alone, why don't we put ourselves on a first name basis. It may be against tradition, but I would think that things will be far more comfortable that way." 

"Okay, Gabriele, that sounds reasonable. Now what do you think of the Engineer's report?" 

Gabriele was quiet for a moment, then sat back in her chair, and ran a hand through her black, shoulder length hair. "I think that we should have a talk with our new C.M.O. and find out what he is doing." 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

The _Enterprise_ glided in to dock at Starbase 133 only a few hours later. After receiving the all clear, Jack and Captain Lester entered the space station to find a flushed and exultant N'Dok there to greet them. All around them, the station's crew bore livid scars, a sharp reminder of the disease that had gripped the Starbase only hours before. But even these marks were fading fast. 

"I did it, Jack!" crowed James. 

"So I see. Congratulations. How did you do it?" 

"Well, I'd been looking for some sort of organic cure. But then I found that the bacteria could be killed by theta waves. I set up a steady pulse, and--" 

Jack held up a hand in sudden comprehension. "Wait. Those theta waves would be pretty powerful, wouldn't they? They'd extend beyond the Starbase, perhaps?" 

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." 

"Do theta waves have any documented effect on warp drives?" 

"Um, I'm not sure. Why?" 

"Just a hunch I had. We'll check it out when we get back to the _Enterprise_; I have a feeling this may solve a mystery. Well, are you packed and ready to go?" 

"You bet. My replacement just arrived, I've taken my leave-- oh, Captain Lester, my apologies." The young doctor reddened and saluted the amused Gabriele. "I'm so sorry, Captain. I didn't see you." 

"Being overlooked seems to be my lot in life," replied Gabriele cheerfully. "I'm getting used to it. I welcome you to the _Enterprise_, Doctor; shall we go on board?" 

* * * 

"We are due in two days to pick up our new Security Officer at Starbase 168. Our Counsellor will be arriving soon afterward, and then we will be ready to undertake our first mission." Gabriele folded her hands and gazed down the length of the council table at her small contingent of officers. Jack was at her right, beside her the mysterious silver-eyed Science Officer Barnabas Cole; across the table sat the curmudgeonly but loyal Chief of Engineering, Mac Moore, and the new arrival James N'Dok, who somehow managed to look rakish even in Starfleet medical green. They were an odd group, and with two officers yet to come, would likely just get odder. But there was promise here, as well. 

Jack glanced over at Barnabas, but the chrome-coloured eyes never wavered from their contemplation of the Captain as Gabriele went on, "This is the newly outfitted flagship of the Federation. You well know the glory associated with the name of _Enterprise_. You also know the names of the many great men and women who have served Starfleet aboard this ship over the past two centuries. I trust that each one of you will continue in that tradition, upholding the honour of this ship and making for yourselves a place in history fully equal to those who have gone so bravely before. I do not ask this. I _expect_ it of you, just as I demand it of myself. And from what I have learned of each of you over the past few days I feel that you may very well be able to meet those high but noble expectations." 

She paused, her eyes flickering to the viewport beside her and the stars beyond, and a little smile touched her lips. "Well," she said. "I've delivered the speech; very pretty, isn't it? But what It amounts to is this: do your best, and try not to blow us all up if you can possibly avoid it. And if Dr. N'Dok drops any virulent bacterial cultures I want to know immediately--" 

James leaped to his feet, eyes widening. "I know you! I had you for first-year virology on Delta V!" 

"Well, so you did," said Gabriele pleasantly. "I do hope that's not your bedside manner, Doctor, or I can predict an alarming increase in heart failure among your patients." 

Jack bent her head to hide her smile as N'Dok sank slowly back into his chair. Beside her, however, Barnabas' face remained impassive. Jack found herself wondering if, for this one, the old wounds would ever heal... 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack fell into step beside Barnabas as they left the council room. "So," she said, "How does it feel to be Science Officer?" 

"Strange," said Barnabas frankly. He stepped onto the turbolift; Jack followed. "Bridge," he said, and the lift began to hum its way up the shaft. 

"What do you mean, strange?" said Jack. 

"Just what I said. For the last year I've been working on all the most dangerous and dirty jobs in Starfleet. Once the doctors figured out what I could do, my superiors figured out how to exploit those capabilities. Nobody really asked me what I wanted. Then, all of a sudden, this promotion to Science Officer on the flagship of the Federation. Are they trying to make it up to me, or something?" 

The muscles of his face were rippling like liquid mercury, the features sliding in and out of focus. "You're shifting, Barnabas," said Jack in a tight voice. "Stop it." 

His chrome-coloured eyes flashed to her, startled; then his face eased into its usual shape. "Sorry," he said. "That doesn't happen often." 

"No. You're upset, and I can understand why. But there's nothing to worry about now. Whatever the reasons, you've got the Ops position now, and nobody's going to take that away from you. Or they'll have to deal with me. You deserve this, Barnabas. You've worked for it. And nobody in Starfleet could do the job better. I believe that." 

The doors hissed open. They stepped out onto the bridge, to find a nervous-looking ensign waiting for them. "I was just about to call you, Commander," he said to Jack. "We've been receiving sub-space transmissions from an unknown ship." 

"What kind of transmissions?" said Barnabas sharply. 

"We don't know, sir. The computer doesn't recognize the language, but we've got the universal translator working on it." 

"That's a good start." Jack tapped her badge. "Captain Lester?" 

"Acknowledged, Number One," said Gabriele's voice. "What seems to be the problem?" 

"I think you're needed on the bridge, Captain," said Jack. 

* * * 

"And the translator is still unable to decipher these transmissions?" said Gabriele, eyes narrowing as she scanned the seemingly random waveforms undulating across the Tactical console. 

"We've tried modifying the range, and searching for repeating patterns that might indicate common words, and we've sent greetings in over a thousand languages, but...nothing." Barnabas shrugged. "It's got to be a message of some sort, but we can't do anything until we know what it means." 

"Are you sure it's a message?" said Jack suddenly. Barnabas and Gabriele looked at her. "I mean," she went on, "what if it's a data transmission rather than an attempt at verbal communication?" 

"The computer knows the difference," said Barnabas. 

"It would recognize known data formats, yes. But what about a protocol it couldn't recognize? Something new. Maybe it's not meant for us at all. It could be an exchange of data between two alien ships, or stations, or planets, and we're simply getting in the way." 

"What might they be transmitting?" asked Gabriele. 

"I don't know," admitted Jack. "But it might be enlightening to find out." 

* * * 

From: Capt. Gabriele Lester 

Gabriele was just as stumped at the rest of the bridge crew. The eager Ensign had taken his place at the helm control a little too quickly. That was to be expected of a new crew. Barnabas had taken his place at Science Stn. 1. and was presently flashing his hands about the board with a confidant adeptness that reassured Gabriele. 

"Talk to me, Mr. Cole." She was standing behind the Ensign's chair but moved toward her chair when she noticed how nervous he got. 

"I'm receiving the same information as before Captain, but now I'm picking up some traces of radiation...curious. That does not indicate a ship." 

"On screen, Ensign." 

The crew gazed out at the stars. There was not a ship in sight. 

"Magnify 100 times." 

Now, a small dot appeared in the upper right side of the screen. 

"Isolate and magnify 1000 times Sector 23.7, Ensign." said the Commander. There appeared a red planet, still quite far off. 

"What can you tell me of that planet, Mr. Leibowitz?" Gabriele asked of the Ensign. 

"It is 3000.53 kilometers away. It's called..." He paused, looking for its name on the sector chart. "Mursatt 1." 

Barnabas picked it up from there. "Mursatt 1 is a class D planet. Its thin atmosphere is mainly sulfur dioxide, and can protect the planet from the intensely charged particles in the nearby radiation belt. So that's what the reading was." His silver eyes remained on the panel as he read off the vital information. "The planet maintains an enormous magnetic field most likely caused by the highly charged electrocurrents in its liquid metal core." Gabriele and Jack looked at each other and frowned. 

"I think I'm beginning to understand now," said Gabriele. "Where is the nearest sun, Mr. Cole?" 

"The nearest sun to this planet went supernova three weeks ago." 

"I see as well," said the Commander. "If the sun still existed, Mursatt 1 would have captured the charged particles ejected by it. As is now stands, the magnetic field is attracting all interstellar gas and dust. Mursatt 1 must be the largest relative planet in this system?" 

"You're correct, Commander." 

"So, what we're saying is that it is very likely that the matter in its core can undergo thermonuclear reactions. Do you recall that fact that was drilled into us in Planetary classes? 'The largest planet is a star that failed'. Is it likely, Mr. Cole, that we are picking up intermittent charges of dust, gas, radio particles and electrocurrents travelling to the planet via the radiation belt?" 

"Very likely, Captain." He continued to look curiously at her. 

"Ensign," said Gabriele, "set course for the next starbase. Warp factor 6." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Engage," said Gabriele as she crossed her legs and carelessly tossed her hair behind her shoulders. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"You called for me, Captain?" asked Jack. 

"Yes," said Gabriele. "Come in, Number One." As Jack stepped into the ready room, and the door hissed shut behind her, the Captain lifted her eyes from the small viewscreen on her desk and smiled. "Have a seat," she said, indicating the chair before her. Jack sat. 

"I've just been reviewing the applications for bridge crew," Gabriele said. "As you are aware, we still lack a Counsellor, a Tactical Officer, and a Chief of Security." 

"And a Transporter Chief," Jack added. 

"Yes. But the filling of that particular position is not as urgent as the others. Have you reviewed the applications at all yourself?" 

"No," admitted Jack. "I didn't wish to encroach on your territory, so to speak." 

Gabriele's eyebrow lifted. "No fear of that, Number One. I value your input. Well, then. There are some... rather unusual candidates applying for all three positions. Starfleet has already sent me several communiques about these candidates, and other Captains have told me I'd be a fool to look twice at any of them. Still, as you must know by now, I have a slightly warped sense of humour, and the more I look at these personnel records the more these three appeal to me." 

"I can't begin to imagine what they must be like," said Jack curiously. "Who's the applicant for Counsellor?" 

"Her name is T'Pryn." 

"A Vulcan Counsellor?" Jack wasn't easily startled, but the complete ludicrousness of the concept shocked her. "How--" 

"You'll have to review her file yourself," said Gabriele. "But despite the warnings from my peers, I think she sounds absolutely fascinating, and I'd like to give her the chance. So far her record has been exemplary--it seems to be the mere concept of the thing that throws Starfleet for a loop. Still, they had no excuse not to let her graduate." 

"A Vulcan Counsellor," murmured Jack again. "I can hardly believe it." 

"That isn't even the strangest of our applicants," said Gabriele. "There's a Borg and a Romulan in the lot as well--not applying for Counsellor," she amended as Jack's eyes widened, "for Tactical and Security. But all I can say is, we're definitely following in the grand old tradition of the _Enterprise_--the weirdest crew in the galaxy." 

Jack whistled tunelessly under her breath. "Captain, I think this might be a little too unusual." 

"Maybe," said Gabriele cheerfully. "But something about it tickles my fancy--especially that girl T'Pryn. But don't let me convince you. Review the files yourself--" she pushed a crystal across the desk-- "and let me know what you think." 

"I'll do that, Captain," said Jack, taking the crystal and getting to her feet. "Permission to leave." 

"Permission granted," said Gabriele. "Oh," she added as Jack turned to leave, "did you notice Ensign Leibowitz's behaviour on the bridge today? I wonder if he's not...perhaps a little inexperienced to be on the bridge?" 

"I was thinking that myself," said Jack. "Would you accept a suggestion for a replacement?" 

"Certainly. Who did you have in mind?" 

"Lieutenant Maverint Slike. He seems to be a responsible sort, and I've heard nothing but good reports of his work so far." 

"So have I, and I agree," said Gabriele. "He's married to Dr. Tanthis, isn't he? She's a good worker too--Dr. N'Dok is quite pleased with her. Well, I'll have a talk with Mr. Leibowitz and suggest that there might be a more suitable vehicle for his unique capabilities elsewhere on the ship. Feel free to notify Lieutenant Slike of his new position." 

"I'll do that," said Jack. 

* * * 

From: Nikctalos D'Pyrann 

Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 sat in his quarters at Starbase 168. 

Having been isolated within his rooms, barren of any form of creature comfort or appliance, was the only true way for him to show his excitement. 

For you see, the Borg designated number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 was unique in all the universe. He was to be appointed, if accepted by the ship's Captain, to be the Chief of Security on the flagship of Starfleet, the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. What's more, he was the first Borg inducted into Starfleet, having sought political asylum from his Borg compatriots some years ago. 

Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 was the first Borg that was separated from the Borglink group mind. He saw himself as an individual, full of hopes and dreams, just like any other sentient, not roped in by the Borg's mechanical mind. His problem was that while he had these feelings, he could not express them. Evolution (or what passed for evolution among the Borg) could only work limited miracles. It had freed his mind, true, but it had not also freed his hands and mouth so he could express those joys and emotions. 

But now he had a bigger problem than his lack of social skills. For while he was no longer connected per se to the Borglink, he still needed the fine line of mental contact to survive. In other words, he needed the mental touch of his 'brothers' in order to live, but could do without losing his consciousness to the good of the race. 

Unfortunately, the other Borg had different intentions. They did not appreciate his going renegade, and wanted him back, wanted him to conform to the ways and means of Borg society. So they used the Borglink all Borg need to continue living to pound at his mind, in the hopes that one day, he would give in. 

And right now, mostly due to the approach of the _Enterprise_, he was mentally weak. The chances of a Borg attack on his brain succeeding were at least possible, and even a possibility when dealing with the Borg is too much. 

So, he needed a distraction. 

Rising from his seat, he crossed the room to the Computer Control Panel, and plugged his left wrist appendage in. 

+Computer.+ he sent to the machine, +Estimated time of arrival, U.S.S. _Enterprise_.+ 

"Twelve hours, forty-five minutes." the Computer piped aloud, unnecessarily. 

+Upon arrival of U.S.S. _Enterprise_ send alert to Holodeck seventeen. End of line.+ 

He then broke the contact. 

Travelling to Holodeck seventeen, Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 thought of the program he had to run. 

For he understood that number 889, 349, 245, 345, 001 was hardly an acceptable title for a fully-fledged Starfleet officer. In order to interact among the Humans, he must have something they all had, something they took for granted, and something which he could only find by scanning the ancient files held within the Starbase's Holodeck. 

A name. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

Maverint sat in what he liked to call his "easy chair", located beneath the "space"-light window in his living quarters. It was a term he had picked up from a very early holographic record his great-great grandfather had compiled for him to view on his 18th birthday. With that compilation, Mav had learned more about the past than he could ever have learned in any educational center in the galaxy... as far as Mav was concerned. And of the stories Mav's great-great grandfather had left him that were intermixed loosely with important historical occurances, Maverint's favorite was "The Easy Chair". His great-great grandfather always slipped in the fact that no matter what ever happened, how crazy life became, it would all disappear when he slumped down into his comfortable old chair. 

Reflecting on that for a moment, Mav put down his tac-board with which he had been calculating possible derivatives that could increase the effect of the tractor beam. Being a Lieutenant qualified him to work more with his brains than his hands, and sometimes that just got to Mav. 

"A desk job" Mav thought and laughed softly to himself, recalling another old saying his grandfather used. His eyes drifted across the quarters, very dimly lit as per Mav's preference. Murals and sculptures adorned the room, just as it seemed they did in every other set of lodgings on the ship he had been in. 

"Just like everyone else..." Mav sighed. Then his eye caught her silhouette in the more brightly lit doorway leading to the bedroom. "And then again..." he added. 

Kate walked over to him, padding across the floor in her bare feet, having just stole a nap between shifts and the adoring arms of her husband of a scant two months. She had come in exhausted and dropped listlessly into Mav's lap as he sat in his chair working. After quicky drifting off, Mav settled her into their bed and resumed his work. Now she padded towards him, her eyes bright and sparkling from the rest. Without a word between them, she took hold of him by the collar, pulled him up and kissed him deeply. 

"I forgot to say 'Honey, I'm home' when I came back, didn't I?" Kate said after pulling back into Mav's encompassing arms. 

"I forgive you..." he replied smiling, then kissed her again. They both slumped gently down into the easy chair. "We were in the middle of something when you got called in, remember?" Maverint smirked. 

"Yes, I do..." her voice trailed off, brushing her cheek against Mav's, breathing lightly into Mav's ear. 

Suddenly the attention blip sounded and a voice passed through the air to Mav and Kate seated rather awkwardly in the chair. Mav straightened up in alarm, as did Kate, and he gave a reply for the voice to go ahead. 

"This is Commander Jacqueline Picard, Lt. Slike." A slight chill ran down Mav's spine. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet with you in person, but my duties have kept me occupied other than a few moments." 

"I understand." Mav replies calmly. 

"Your services have come highly recommended for the CON position on the bridge and, as of now, are immediately needed. Will you accept this new assignment?" 

"Yes, sir!" Mav responded quickly. 

"Understood, Lieutenant," the voice replied. "You are due for duty in 20 minutes. Picard out." 

Kate hugged Maverint tightly, herself overjoyed at the turn of events. "My man at the helm..." she purred. 

* * * 

Maverint walked calmly onto the bridge, giving it only a quick glance. He knew his duty, having served at the CON of the his old assignment aboard a Sovereign Class Battlecruiser for the better part of three years. He excused the ensign from the CON and sat down. 

"Good to have you on the team." a voice said behind him from one of the command chairs. 

Turning around in his chair, Mav faced Jack. "Thank you, sir." They exchanged smiles, then Mav turned back to the CON. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack stood by the viewport in her quarters, staring out into space. She wanted to look at the stars, but her eyes refused to obey; they kept flickering back to her own ghostly reflection in the port's glassy surface. 

Guinan was right: Jack was the image of her mother. The soft red-gold hair, the fine features, all were Beverly's. All except for those piercing, ice-blue eyes, the eyes everyone who had known Jean-Luc Picard recognized at once. 

There was a good deal more of her father's mettle in Jack than her delicate beauty suggested. Ordinarily her voice was soft, but it cracked out like thunder when her temper got the better of her; she could turn heads on the other side of Ten-Forward with that voice, or startle even an admiral into silence. She rarely used it, however. One of the things that had ensured her meteoric rise through the ranks of Starfleet was a cool head and an iron will. And those were things she owed to both her parents. 

Right now Jack was exceedingly tired, though her self-control was rigid enough that the only visible mark of that weariness was the pale blue circles beneath her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well of late. A lot of responsibility, a lot of pressure, maybe a bit of loneliness mixed in with it as well... 

"All right," she said to her own reflection, "a lot of loneliness." 

She had made many friends on the Copernicus, but had left them all when she signed on to the _Enterprise_. She didn't regret the decision in the least: what could be more exciting than to be First Officer of the flagship of the Federation? But still, it hadn't been easy. Gabriele was a good deal easier to get along with than Jack had dreamed her new Captain could be, but they weren't fast friends--at least, not yet. And of course, there was Barnabas, who used to be a good friend, but the pain of what had happened to him had driven a wedge between them. Every time he saw her, he was bound to remember what his life had been like before the accident. She could hardly blame him for avoiding her. She only hoped, for his sake, that soon he would find somebody-- anybody--to talk to. 

Jack pondered whether she felt like going down to Ten-Forward, or perhaps going for a horseback ride on the Holodeck. She didn't really feel like doing either. She could, however, take a look at those applications Gabriele had given her. Crossing the room to her console, she slid the crystal into its slot and sat down, her eyes narrowing as the holographic image of a male Borg coalesced in the air above her. The computer's dispassionate voice began, "Name: Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001. Graduated from Starfleet, Stardate 59712.3. Rank: Lieutenant. Qualifications..." 

Jack listened to the entire file and found herself both surprised and impressed. Of course, she had heard about this Borg's defection and his subsequent application for Starfleet: both had made headlines when they happened a few years back. It had been totally unprecedented on the part of Starfleet to accept into the Academy a member of a race still at war with the Federation, but he had passed all of the tests with top marks, and both the psychological profiles and the data the Borg had allowed them to download from his mental coprocessor had checked out so cleanly there seemed no reason whatsoever to reject him. Still, Gabriele had said that she'd been warned against accepting him... were those warnings born of foresight, or merely prejudice? After viewing the file, Jack still wasn't sure. But there were some pretty good testimonials appended to the file from a number of officers and crew at the Borg's previous posting, Starbase 168-- including a brief word in his favor from Captain Solok, who Jack knew from experience to be a canny judge of character and a hard man to impress. 

The next file was no less interesting. This was the Vulcan female who'd applied for Counsellor--T'Pryn was her name. She'd been bonded once, but her husband had died shortly afterward in the destruction of the mining colony on Eridani V. After that, she'd entered the Academy. The rest of the file was nothing short of riveting. As with the Borg, T'Pryn's record was exemplary, her psychological profile flawless. Appended to the file was a clip of T'Pryn expertly counselling a distraught cadet. Jack was intrigued -- no, more than intrigued, she was convinced. She could certainly understand why, given the unusual nature of the "experiment" T'Pryn described in the file, so many of her fellow Vulcans would be alarmed at the prospect of her remaining in Starfleet. But was that cause not to accept such a spectacularly qualified candidate? Not to Jack, and she suspected not to Gabriele either. 

The third file was an application for an exchange, not a permanent position. A Romulan. She and Gabriele would have to do some serious talking about that one, but again, the record looked good. Jack leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, fingers massaging her temples to work out the tension. Well, she'd done her duty; now she might be able to bring herself to relax. Yawning, she got up from the chair and headed for her bedroom. 

* * * 

From: Centurion Salek 

Salek was fuming. He was in his quarters on board the Amaloch. He had just received news, via subspace, that the Praetor had chosen him to be the exchange officer between the Romulan Empire and the Federation. 

_I'm sure the enmity between our families had absolutely nothing to do with your decision, mighty Praetor,_ he thought. There had long been harsh feelings, and not a few deaths, between the Praetor's family and that of Salek's. _This is just his way of getting rid of me. Probably hoping someone in Starfleet will take me out for him._ Salek re-read the orders: 

> To: Centurion Salek, serving on the Amaloch.  
From: Romulan High Command, Praetor's Section 
> 
> Congratulations, Centurion Salek! Due to the history of your loyal service to the Romulan race, as well as your exemplary performances aboard the Amaloch, you have been selected as an exchange officer. The Federation will be sending your replacement within 3 Myriaps. You will be expected to leave immediately upon his arrival, to rendezvous with the Federation Starship _Enterprise_, NCC-1701-F, where you will serve under Captain Lester. 
> 
> You will be required to fill out a Starfleet transfer request, which must first be approved by your new Captain. It has been enclosed here. Fill it out and transmit it with all due haste. I am positive you will be accepted. 
> 
> Division Of Military Transfers  
Praetor's Section  
Romulas

The order was signed by the Praetor himself. 

Salek was a loyal Romulan; loyal to Romulans, not to the Praetor. In secret he despised the fat man who dared to use the title, but not assume the responsibilities. 

_However, I will go,_ he had thought. He filled out the application, and transmitted. He was now waiting for the reply, hoping. Whether he was hoping for acceptance or a rejection, he was not sure. 

He allowed himself a small smile. _At least it's the _Enterprise_. He could have ordered me onto a garbage-scow, instead of the Flagship of the Federation._ 

His communicator signaled. "Centurion Salek. We have arrived in Federation space for the peace talks. Please report to the bridge." 

Salek stood, and walked out of his quarters, leaving all thoughts of the Praetor behind him. 

* * * 

From: Dr. James N'Dok 

"Dr. N'Dok to Cmdr. Picard!" 

"Picard here. What's up, James?" 

"Commander. I have some news for you..." 

"Go ahead, Doctor." 

"Well, it's Starfleet regulation for ALL bridge officers to undergo a complete physical. I just called to confirm. You're due first, then the Captain. Since you seem to be getting along with her better than I, could you--" 

"Sure. But James, The Captain doesn't bite." 

"Oh, I know... But she's, uh, well, different." 

Jack dismissed the matter. "Fine James, I'll do it this once. When do you want me to report for the medical examination?" 

"ASAP, Commander. I have to do a physical on you, the Captain, Barnabas, and any new personnel coming on board. Which reminds me... What's this about a Borg Security Officer?" 

"Heard through the grape vine, eh? You are correct. But I can't give any other information. I can't give the C.M.O access to Starfleet records until the transfer of duty of completed." 

"Understood, Commander. - N'Dok out" 

Jack pondered this for a moment. How could she have forgotten a simple medical examination? 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

At 1400 hours Jack stood in Sick Bay, tapping her foot impatiently as James circled her, the medicorder humming in his hand. She was glad, at least, that in the 24th century a complete physical took only a moment, and unlike the examinations of bygone days, did not require any embarrassing removal of one's clothes. Jack knew James a bit too well to be comfortable with that idea-- mind you, being examined by a total stranger under those conditions would be no picnic either. Three cheers for modern technology. 

"Well," said James as he consulted the reading on the medicorder, "You're in top physical condition--except you're stressed out, which is no good. You're taking on too much, Jack, or taking yourself too seriously, or something. You need to relax more when you're off-duty, get your mind off your work." 

Jack was silent. 

"And get more sleep," James said firmly. "Gods, girl, didn't your mother bring you up right? If you don't take care of yourself you'll be no good for anything, least of all commanding a starship. Captain Lester's results were almost as bad as yours. Loosen up a little, will you? Both of you." He turned away and picked up a skinjector from a nearby table. "If you find yourself getting too tense, take this. It'll relax your muscles and allow you to sleep better." He pressed the little device into her hand. "Now shoo. I've got Barnabas coming in soon." 

Nobody else on board would have dared to say "shoo" to the First Officer, but within the confines of sick bay James was in command, and even the Captain was not immune to his chidings. For all his boyish exuberance, James could be a real mother hen sometimes... Jack stifled a smile as she left the room and headed back to her duties on the bridge. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Nikctalos D'pyrann 

"_Enterprise_, this is Starbase 168. One to beam up from transporter room seven." "Acknowledged, Starbase 168. Transporting now. Nicholson out." 

Ensign Nicholson activated the transporter, yawning quietly to herself. It had been a quiet day, despite the _Enterprise_'s docking at Starbase 168, which was commonly seen as one of the more esoteric places to be, due to its host of rather unusual Starfleet officers. Her yawn stuck in her throat when she saw the form of the Borg materialize on the transporter pad. 

She had managed to stop her hand from instantly grabbing her phaser and firing by only millimeters. Images raced through her mind, of the stories about the _Enterprise_'s first encounters with the Borg, twenty-some odd years ago, of how they were supposedly indestructible, that if you didn't get them right away, they'd get you. And then she remembered the briefing that the T.C. had given her, about beaming up some rather unusual candidates, including a Borg. 

Of course, she thought, I'm being an idiot. 

"Commander Picard," Nicholson called, "I think you had better come down to transporter room three." 

"Is there a problem?" came Jack's reply. 

"One of the candidates has arrived." 

"On my way!" 

Nikctalos D'pyrann looked down at the Ensign who was currently looking awkwardly at him, her hand hovering near her phaser holster. 

Regulations stated that he was not allowed to enter the ship until given express permission to do so, and so he stood there, waiting motionless for the Commander to arrive. 

* * * 

Commander Jacqueline Picard strode down the corridor towards Transporter room three. She had been steadying herself for this moment, when she must actually face one of the most terrifying races ever encountered by the Federation. She entered the Transporter room. 

"Oh my -" she said upon seeing Nikctalos. Even though she had prepared, the sight of the hulking, mechanical monstrosity took her aback somewhat. 

Recomposing herself, she stepped forward. 

Nikctalos saw the Commander enter the room. Putting himself into the 'at-ease' stance, he said. 

"Lieutenant Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 reporting. Request permission to come aboard. Request permission to begin duties as Chief of Security of Starship NCC-1701-F, U.S.S. _Enterprise_. Request official recognition of name change from Borg number 889, 349, 236, 345, 001 to Nikctalos D'pyrann." 

Nikctalos fell silent once again, waiting for the Commander to answer. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack gave herself a mental slap. _Idiot!_ she thought. _You're the First Officer of the _Enterprise_, not an addle-brained cadet._ She forced her head up and met the Borg's dead eyes with her own defiantly blue ones. "Welcome to the _Enterprise_," she said crisply. "The starbase advised us of your wish to change your name. You may consider your choice officially approved, Lieutenant D'pyrann. I believe the Captain would like to see you in her ready room before you are assigned to duty: will you follow me?" 

She turned unhesitatingly to leave, and saw out of the corner of her eye the Borg clanking down off of the transporter pad. For all the heavy-looking hardware, he moved fluidly and with surprising speed. But then, he would have to, to be able to apply for the Security post. He'd have to be downright deadly... 

Jack put that thought firmly out of her mind and led Nikctalos out of the Transporter Room, down the corridor and into the turbolift. He followed her silently, his footsteps making no more noise on the carpeted floor than the paws of some great metal cat. The only sound was a soft sighing of compressed air from the joints of his technologically-enhanced limbs, and the almost inaudible high-pitched whine-purr-click as his internal processor assimilated sensory data. 

Jack had made a close enough study of the Borg's file to know these things about him--and more. She was almost sure she'd never have to use most of that knowledge, and she certainly didn't want to use it. But it was important for her to know that should anything go wrong, there was at least one person on the _Enterprise_ who knew how to kill Nikctalos D'pyrann. 

The turbolift doors closed with a hiss. She was alone with the Borg. "Bridge," she said curtly, and the elevator buzzed its way upward. Nikctalos remained silent, staring at the flashing red light on the wall. 

_He must know how to relate to humans by now,_ Jack thought. _He's probably just nervous, a bit tongue-tied. I know I would be._ Still, it was hard to think of a Borg being nervous, even though she knew it was possible. Despite their humanoid appearance, the Borg were so...mechanical. One soon stopped thinking of their human aspects at all and simply thought about machines. She'd have to unlearn that to work with this thing-- _no, this man,_ she corrected herself firmly. 

The turbolift door opened; they stepped out onto the bridge. "The Captain's ready room is to your left," said Jack. "I must attend to my other duties." 

The Borg inclined his head to her. "Thank you, Commander," he said. Jack gave him a smile that was a little thinner than she'd meant it to be, and walked down the ramp to her chair. Barnabas, seated at the Ops station, gave her a curious look as she sat down, then turned his silver eyes to the Borg, who was standing in front of the Ready Room door, motionless. 

"Enter," said Gabriele's voice from beyond the door. Nikctalos stepped forward and vanished. 

"Shouldn't somebody else be in there?" asked Barnabas quietly. 

Jack shook her head. "He's been through Starfleet, Mr. Cole. And unless the Captain decides otherwise... he's about to become our new Chief of Security." 

* * * 

From: Lt. Nikctalos D'pyrann 

At the sound of the Captains voice, Nikctalos entered the room. It was a nice, well furnished room, as would befit a Captain of Starfleet's flagship. Decorated in soft greys and working blacks, the room blended with its furniture to give the impression of a friendly, easy to work in atmosphere, while at the same time commanding the respect deserved. 

Of course, all of this was lost on Nikctalos. He stood directly in front of the Captain's desk, his legs slightly apart, and his hands behind his lower back. The only sound currently was the slight hiss of his respirator, a largely unnecessary device, but he employed it so the Humans around him would feel more comfortable. 

The Captain looked up from her holo-screen. "Ah," she said, "Lieutenant D'pyrann, I presume." Nikctalos shifted his gaze slightly to take her features in. She was pretty, by human standards, and fairly young, not at all beyond what most Humans knew as the mating stage. 

"Acknowledged." he replyed, "Lieutenant Nikctalos D'pyrann reporting for duty after having received assignment orders from Starfleet command at Starbase 168. Request permission to begin duties as Chief of Security for NCC-1701-F U.S.S. _Enterprise_." 

He waited, as regulations clearly stated he must, for an answer. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Cmdr. Barnabas Cole 

Realizing that he was no average person himself, Barnabas tried to rationalize the Borg's presence on the _Enterprise_ away. It had been his experience that the race caused nothing but problems. Having a single Borg on the ship was, in his opinion, just as bad as having a few thousand whirring cyborgs wandering around the ship. 

At least, he thought, Jack must have inside information on this creature. For one, she's not stupid enough to let him on the ship if she didn't have an ace hidden somewhere, that was in her genes. Barnabas knew what most Starfleet officers knew about the Borg, which wasn't much, and so he made a mental note to find Jack later when they were alone and question her. 

As Science Officer he would have to work closely with this "Nikctalos". His cold features hid the inner repulsion he felt at trying to work with this servomechanically animated shell. Perhaps he might be an excellent resource, though; Starfleet's new biological "lung" project might need all the help it could get. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"Number One, report to my Ready Room." 

Gabriele's voice echoed across the bridge. Jack exchanged glances with Barnabas, then rose from the command chair and headed for the door as the silver-skinned Lieutenant moved to take her place. 

"You called, Captain?" said Jack as she entered the Ready Room. Gabriele was seated at her desk, with Nikctalos standing directly in front of her. Not a muscle on the Borg's tall frame moved; he stared straight ahead. 

"Yes, Number One," said Gabriele. "I would like to have your input. You said that you had extensively reviewed the file of Lieutenant D'Pyrann?" 

"Yes, I have," said Jack. 

"And to what conclusion did you come afterward?" 

"I could see no reason why he should not be accepted. With certain necessary restrictions, of course." 

"Of course." Gabriele smiled slightly. "Yes, I too have made a thorough examination of the file and feel that while this is an...unusual candidate, to say the least, his qualifications are impeccable and his record exemplary. I wished only to be certain that you were comfortable with the decision, Commander, as it is important that a Captain and her First Officer be in total agreement, especially as far as the bridge crew is concerned. And since you will be leading the away teams, and the Lieutenant will almost without exception accompany you on such missions, it is especially important that you have no reservations. Lieutenant D'Pyrann--" the Borg's head turned slightly to regard the Captain, and his dead eyes focused at the sound of his name-- "it is my pleasure to appoint you to the position of Chief of Security of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, to take effect immediately. You will relieve acting Chief of Security Lieutenant Mordon, who will become your second-in-command." 

"Thank you, Captain Lester," said Nikctalos. "I will carry out your orders as stated." 

"Dismissed," said Gabriele, and the Borg inclined his head to her before turning and moving silently out the door. 

When he was gone the Captain let out a long sigh of relief. "Quite the interesting one, isn't he?" she said to Jack, who smiled. 

"I know exactly what you mean," she replied. "But he is certainly more...approachable than the other Borg I have fortunately not yet been privileged to meet." 

"You know more about the Borg than most," pointed out Gabriele. "After all--" 

"I know," said Jack. "I grew up with somebody who was part Borg to the end of his days. Not what one would call a stable childhood." She smiled a little. "But I never saw that side of my father, and I have hope that Lieutenant D'Pyrann may yet discover the human side of himself." 

"As have I," agreed Gabriele. "Now. The other thing I wanted to see you about was this application for exchange from the Romulans. They would like to send us one Centurion Salek, who would act, in a limited capacity of course, as our Tactical officer for a period of two years." 

"Yes, I know. I examined his file as well." 

"Again, have you any reservations? If we accept him, we'll need to appoint a Second to keep an eye on him, of course." 

"Of course. But apart from that, no, I see no problem. He appears to be a responsible and well-trained candidate, and his psychological profile is unusually promising for a Romulan." 

"Yes." Gabriele pondered this. "It makes me wonder why they'd let him go." 

"You mean, because he's valuable to them?" asked Jack. 

"No," murmured Gabriele thoughtfully, "because as far as the Romulans are concerned, he's dangerous..." 

* * * 

From: Lt. Nikctalos D'Pyrann 

Nikctalos left the Captain's ready room, his respirator trying, and failing miserably, to cope with the emotion of 'bated breath'. For that was how he felt at that moment, excited. He had been accepted as the _Enterprise_'s CoS, and what's more, his enhanced hearing had allowed him to catch part of the Commander's conversation, they thought he may be able to become more human! 

The idea had him doing cartwheels, mentally. To think that he could finally express himself, after all of these years of being bottled up! It was exhilarating. 

Of course, his pasty-white, inexpressive face gave none of this away as he walked across the bridge to his station. 

Arriving at the comm-port, Nikctalos looked straight at the young black man who was currently standing in front of him. 

"Lieutenant Mordon." he said, "I am Lieutenant Nikctalos D'pyrann. By order of Starfleet Command, I hereby take on the position of Chief of Security for the starship NCC-1701-F U.S.S. _Enterprise_. You are hereby appointed Second in Command of Security. You are dismissed until 17:50 hours." 

Nikctalos turned away, towards the computer holo-screens, leaving one slightly dazed Lt. Mordon in his wake, and jacked into the computer. 

He began by familiarizing himself with the computer system of the _Enterprise_. Most people thought all computers in Starfleet were alike. Not so, every computer had it's own unique programs and system operations, thus, every computer was a brand new world to explore. 

In a matter of moments, he had memorized all of the pathways within the computer system. If something went wrong with the warp- drive system in engineering, or if a food-slot went down in an ensign's quarters, he would know, as long as he was jacked in. He could access any function of the computer almost instantly, and could just as quickly get a status report on any deck of the ship. Satisfied that he knew the _Enterprise_ like he knew his own neural-nets, Nikctalos ended his work by getting a report from all decks and stations, each signifying that everything was in perfect working order. He then jacked out, and stood at the ready, waiting for the Captain and Commander to come out and supply further orders. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

Having completed docking sequence checks at his duty station at CON, Maverint stood from his chair to be quickly replaced by a bright eyed ensign. Mav walked the slope of the bridge and entered the turbolift as its twin doors hissed apart at his approach. He turned and cast a quick glance at the bridge as the doors closed in front of him. 

* * * 

Kate sighed listlessly as she lay bundled in the blankets of their bed. She rolled over onto her back slowly and turned her head to the left, letting her eyes fix into a stare on a picture of her and Maverint on Erosta propped up on Mav's bedside table. Her mind began to wander with thoughts of her and Mav's lives aboard this starship. Her thoughts were muddled and filled with self pity. 

'What about a family? Is our love for the stars always going to overcloud our love for one another... until one of us dies in some strange mishap aboard the fabled _Enterprise_, leaving the other a broken shell of the person we loved?' she thought mournfully. The thought sent a slight chill through her and she rustled the blankets into a tight cocoon in an effort to fend off the uncomfortable sensation. 

She thought about her parents on the planet colony of Trenton- II, right beside Maverint's family on its neighbouring planet colony of Hindrid. Her parents' lives always seemed so simple and fulfilling, not complicated with thoughts of duty, desire and family like her own. Of one of the many things she and Maverint had shared with each other in their short time as husband and wife, the one thing that came to Kate's mind at this moment was how it was ironic that their desires to be a part of the stars had brought them together. It was the thought of traveling amongst those burning lights in the skies and travelling to places they could not yet imagine that drove them both to enter the Academy. 

With Kate's mother's background as the chief medical officer of the colony, Kate's instant ambition was to follow her mother's example. Kate had graduated with top honours and had been almost immeadiately assigned a post aboard the U.S.S. _Salk_. It was on one of the _Salk_'s missions that she met Maverint. His Royal Sovereign class battlecruiser had been severely damaged by an internal explosion and the number of injuries were great among its crew of 850. Maverint had offered her his help in tending to the wounded, whenever his schedule of repair work would allow it. They became close friends over that time and from there, their relationship grew into love. They were married shortly thereafter and spent a short time on the resort planet Erosta, enjoying their honeymoon. 

When they returned to duty as a married couple without immediate plans for a family, they were both reassigned to the _Enterprise_. Kate now wondered if it had been a wise decision to accept their commissions aboard a vessel which forbade the inclusion of children and was renowned for its 'encounters'. 

Her eyes began to feel heavy and she closed her eyes, trying to blank her mind of the thoughts of family that seemed to torture her... 

* * * 

Maverint entered their quarters in the dark. Trying as best he could to be quiet, he walked into the bedroom and saw his wife dozing. Normally, he would have left her to her rest, knowing her shift started just an hour from now. It was the sight of her hand clenched tighly around the edge of the blanket, so tight that even in the dim light Mav could see the knuckles were white, that brought him to sit on the side of the bed. At the movement of the mattress, Kate stirred and sat up. Mav looked into her sleepy eyes, glistening in the dimly lit darkness. They were filled with a look of despair... love... wanting. 

In that brief look, Mav understood the source of all of these emotions. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him. She wrapped her arms around him and they hugged. Mav lightly brushed over her long brown hair with his hand as her head rested against his shoulder. He knew of no words that could come to his lips that would ease her mind... or his own. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack rapped at the stateroom door. 

"Come," said a voice from within. 

The door opened, and Jack walked into Barnabas' stateroom to find him seated at his personal tech-console, hands moving restlessly across the touchpad. "What are you working on?" she asked. 

"Oh, just bacterial stuff. Really it's Krystan's pet project, but she has this amazing ability to find everything but the obvious." He swivelled around in his chair and looked up at her. "Thanks for coming by." 

"Well, when you called I assumed it was important. What's on your mind?" Jack walked over to the settee and sat down, crossing her legs and folding her arms. Barnabas followed and eased himself into the overstuffed armchair, his silver eyes serious. 

"It's about the Borg," he said. "Are you...okay about this?" 

"Do I wish I could take him apart gear by gear for what the Borg did to my father, you mean?" 

"Well, if you want to put it that way, yes." 

Jack smiled. "No. Why blame Nikctalos for the sins of his fathers? The fact that he's left the Borg shows that he doesn't approve of their ways, and his greatest desire seems to be finding a way to cut himself off from them forever." 

"Seems to be," said Barnabas. 

"Yes. I know: he could be a spy. But the Borg consciousness doesn't work like that. They're utilitarian--they conquer by superior technology and armed strength, not by stealth. In other words, they're highly intelligent and exceedingly adaptable, but they're not clever. Spying simply wouldn't occur to them. Being a good spy requires acute psychological awareness, both of oneself and of one's enemies. And the Borg gave that up with their humanity." 

"You're saying, in effect, that the Borg don't lie." 

"Do computers lie?" 

"They malfunction." 

"But malfunctions are as abhorrent to the Borg as a loathsome disease would be to us. Any malfunction would be immediately corrected, or the unit would be terminated. And Nikctalos, technically, is in perfect working order." 

"But he's still tapped into the Borglink." 

"At this point, in order to survive, he has to be." 

"What if they take him over? I don't think anyone wants a killer Borg on the loose." 

"According to his psychological profile the danger of the Borglink battering through Nikctalos' mental defenses is minimal, and James has just informed me that it may be possible to cut Nikctalos off from the link entirely." 

"As your mother did with your father." 

"Yes... well, almost entirely." 

"Okay," said Barnabas. "But let's take a worst-case scenario here..." 

"Barnabas, if this is what you're really worried about, I've made a thorough study of Nikctalos' technical specs. All I'd need would be a second's distraction, and I could take him down. I've also briefed his Second, Lt. Mordon, on this matter. So whatever happens, there's no cause for concern." 

The Lieutenant nodded. 

"Is that all?" Jack asked. 

"Yes," said Barnabas. 

"Good." She got to her feet and headed for the door. Barnabas remained silent. Something made her stop and turn back to scrutinize his averted face. His expression was one of guarded melancholy, as usual. "Are you okay?" she asked with more gentleness than was her wont. 

He did not look up. "I'm fine." 

"Our Counsellor will be arriving soon," Jack said. "You might want to talk to her." 

"No thanks," said Barnabas, a bitter metallic undertone creeping into his voice, "I've had enough of misdirected pity. You can't counsel what you don't understand." 

Jack was silent. "No," she said at last. "I suppose not." She turned and left the stateroom, and the door hissed shut behind her, leaving Barnabas alone in the half-light, staring out the viewport into space. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Cmdr. Mac Moore 

As the turbolift climbed towards the bridge Mac's stomach swelled. This was going to be his first real mission on board the _Enterprise_. Imagine, Mac Moore, Lieutenant Commander, Chief of Engineering onboard the flagship of the Federation. 

The doors opened, and in walked something Mac wasn't expecting...a Borg! "Hello Lieutenant Commander Moore." 

"uhhh....Hello...You have me at a loss, sir...You know my name, but I don't know yours?" Of course Commander Picard had told him about the Borg security officer. 

"Nikctalos D'pyrann is my name sir." 

"Well Nikctalos D'pyrann then it's nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you?...Ahh a form of greeting. I'm sorry I'm still trying to adapt to the ways of non-Borg society." 

"So Nikctalos....ummm you're the Chief of Security? Right?" 

"Yes that is correct Lieutenant Commander Moore." 

"Hey Nikctalos just call me Mac. We're co-workers and equal rank so don't worry about calling me by my full title when we're not on station. Besides titles always bothered me. My mother named me Mac not sir, or Lieutenant Commander." 

"Very well Mac I think this is the bridge." 

"Yep looks right, time to meet the rest of the new crew. Come on Nikctalos my friend let's go to work." 

"Mac?" 

"Let's assume our stations Nikctalos." 

"I see...Of course Lieutenant Commander Moore." 

Mac groaned. 

* * * 

From: Dr. James N'Dok 

"N'Dok to Picard." 

"Go ahead, James," piped the pleasant female voice of Jack, the _Enterprise_'s First Officer. 

"The Borg has been assigned today, correct?" 

"The Lieutenant? Sure! Why do you ask?" 

"Well, I've read some medical information on them, and I understand that people _do_ feel undercomfortable around them." 

"Right again." 

"I _could_ change him back to a human, you know." 

Jack was silent. 

"Jack?" he asked. 

"James, you'll have to give me some time. Besides, he's just getting used to things." 

"Sure thing Commander. Just let me know what everyone else, including the Borg, thinks..." 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack sat in the council chambers, gazing at the small viewscreen before her. She had two notices of acceptance to put through: one to Counsellor T'Pryn and one to Centurion Salek. As First Officer, it was her duty to inform the candidates of their acceptance: when they boarded the _Enterprise_ they would be privileged to meet their Captain. Still, not knowing either T'Pryn or the Romulan made things a little difficult. Notifying James had been a lot easier. 

But she was not one to hesitate. "Computer, establish a sub- space communication link to Starbase 218." 

There was a slight pause. "Established." 

Jack sat straight up in her chair and gazed down at the screen with her father's air of cool command. "Starfleet Sub-Space Communication, Stardate 59818.3. Commander Jacqueline Picard to Lieutenant Commander T'Pryn of Starbase 218, greetings. Your application for the post of Counsellor on the _Enterprise_ has been thoroughly examined in accordance with Starfleet regulations, and it is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted. We will be arriving at Starbase 218 in 2.5 days, at which point you will be asked to transfer immediately to the _Enterprise_. Congratulations, Counsellor, and welcome to the _Enterprise_ crew." 

"Send as dictated?" asked the computer. 

"Send," said Jack. 

Now for the Romulan. "Establish a sub-space communication link to the Romulan ship Amaloch." 

The pause was a lot longer this time, but not as long as it might have been: it was fairly easy to locate a ship that was at the Federation Peace Talks. 

"Starfleet Sub-Space Communication, Stardate 59818.3. Commander Jacqueline Picard to Centurion Salek of the Romulan warbird Amaloch, greetings. Your application for exchange has been thoroughly examined in accordance with Starfleet regulations..." 

When she had dictated the message to her satisfaction, informing the Centurion of the duties he must perform as Tactical Officer and the limitations of his access to Starfleet records and computer systems, plus the necessity of a Second to keep watch on him in accordance with the agreed-upon terms of the exchange, she closed the communications port and got up. Stretching stiff limbs she moved to the viewport and stared out at the stars streaking by outside. 

"A Borg at Security, a Romulan at Tactical, and a Vulcan Counsellor," she murmured to no one. "Starfleet is going to think us completely mad..." 

Then she remembered one communication she had not delivered. Tapping her badge she said crisply, "Lieutenant Nikctalos D'Pyrann, report to the First Officer in the counsel chambers immediately." 

"Responding, Commander," came the Borg's dead, metallic voice. 

Jack sat back down at the head of the long glassy table, crossed her legs, and waited for the Borg to enter. She had only to wait a few moments before the door hissed open and Nikctalos clanked in. 

"Lieutenant," she said, indicating the seat to her left. The Borg took it. 

"It has been brought to my attention," she said, looking him directly in the eye--well, she supposed that telescopic protruberance served the same purpose as an eye, though it hadn't the same cosmetic appeal--"that our Chief Medical Officer, James N'Dok, believes himself capable of severing you partially or totally from the Borglink, and, possibly, returning you to a more or less human state. I had no intention of accepting such an offer on your behalf; indeed, I was not sure you would be interested. So I told him that I would inform you of the possibilities, and that he must await your decision on the matter." 

The Borg was silent, but she could almost hear the gears whirring as he contemplated this unexpected information. "He would remove my mechanical appendages and make me small and pink like you?" 

Small and pink wasn't exactly the way Jack would have described herself or indeed humans in general, but she let this pass. "Perhaps--if you wish it. However, I have not the same confidence in the Doctor's ability on this score. I discussed the matter with the Captain, who as you may or may not know is also a doctor, and having made an intensive study of your medical records, she believes that one who has been a Borg all his life could not be deprived of his servo-mechanisms without being crippled or killed. That is a risk neither of us ask you to take." 

"Nor am I willing to take it," replied the Borg. "I am Borg. I do not obey the Borg Mind, but even so I will not be other-than- Borg. Borg is--" he paused fractionally-- "what I am." 

Jack nodded. "But perhaps he can help with the Borglink. You might wish to consult with him on the matter when you are off- duty." 

Nikctalos inclined his metal-shrouded head to her. "I will do so. Request permission to return to duty, Commander Jacqueline Picard." 

"Permission granted," said Jack. 

* * * 

From: Centurion Salek 

"Go ahead." 

"Centurion, you have a sub-space communication from the Federation Starship _Enterprise_." 

Salek was suddenly nervous. Here was what he had been waiting for: the acceptance, or denial, of Starfleet. 

"I'll take it here." 

He walked across the room to his personal communications screen. When he turned it on, he quickly read the report. Acceptance. 

Salek could barely contain himself. All along, he was not sure whether he had been hoping for acceptance or rejection. Now that he had been accepted, he knew. 

Suddenly, he stopped his personal celebrations. He thought carefully to himself. Was the name on the communique "Picard"? Glancing back to the screen, he searched for the name. Yes, there it was: Commander Jacqueline Picard. 

* * * 

Sevana was a Rank 7 Officer. She was also Salek's closest friend. 

"Hmmm. I see your dilemma, but I can see only two possible ways to resolve it." 

"And those are...?" 

"One. Do not accept the assignment." 

Salek thought a moment, then shook his head. Sevana sighed. She had hoped he would stay. She had grown quite fond of him recently. 

"Two," she continued. "Confront her with it immediately." 

Now it was Salek's turn to sigh. "I had already come to that conclusion. I was just hoping for another way around it." 

"Well, there is a slight possibility that she doesn't know about it." 

"No. Even if that is so, deception is not the way to start off a relationship. Especially not with one's superiors!" 

"No," Sevana corrected him. "Commanding Officers. You are Romulan. You have no superiors." 

Salek thought to himself, _That train of thought will have to go, if the talks are successful._ "Sevana, thank you. Your advice and your presence have both brought me peace. Will I see you in the mess later?" 

She wrinkled her nose. "Not if you will be eating any of that awful Terran food again." 

Salek smiled. "No. My last meal will be Romulan." 

She smiled back. "In that case, I'll see you then. Oh, by the way, what was it you were eating the other day?" 

"A Terran delicacy. I believe they are called 'Sweet Breads'." 

* * * 

A light bleeped on the bridge. The communications officer responded. "Yes?" 

"Officer, this is Centurion Salek. Inform me immediately when the _Enterprise_ arrives. Then, hail them, and let them know I wish to be shuttled over. Request the pilot by name: Commander Jacqueline Picard." 

"Understood, Centurion." 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

It was morning, time for Jack to begin her shift on the Bridge. Barnabas, as Second Officer, generally took the night watch plus a considerable overlap; he seemed to require less sleep than ordinary humans. 

Jack had awakened at 06:30 hours, and spent an hour in reading and contemplation, as had been her habit for the last fifteen years (though she would never forget the look on her father's face when he'd first caught her studying what he regarded to be primitive religious scribblings). Once that was done she generally took only half an hour to dress, take breakfast in her quarters, and otherwise prepare herself to face the world. 

Gazing at herself in the mirror, she drew the front layer of her autumn-coloured hair back from her face and pinned it behind her head, letting the rest fall straight to brush her shoulders. It was a style at once professional and feminine, softly but neatly framing her fine-boned features. There: now she was ready. She turned and headed out the door. 

Her communicator clicked just as she was getting into the turbolift. She touched it on and said "Picard here." 

"Commander," said Barnabas' voice, "we have just received a communique from the Romulan ship Amaloch. Centurion Salek is on board the ship and wishes to be transferred over to the _Enterprise_ by shuttle. We are currently proceeding on an intercept course with the Amaloch, and shuttle Hawking is primed and ready in Docking Bay #3. We should be within shuttle distance of the Romulan ship in 12.6 minutes." 

"Good," said Jack. "Notify one of our shuttle pilots--" 

"Commander," Barnabas said, "there was an unusual request from Centurion Salek. He wishes you to be the pilot of the shuttlecraft for the rendezvous." 

"Me? Why me?" Jack wasn't easily surprised, but this one was a corker. "Did he give any explanation?" 

"He only said that he knew it was highly irregular, but he had some important information which could be disclosed only to you." 

Jack shook her head. "Does this smell as funny to you as it does to me, Mr. Cole?" 

"He seemed...sincere," said Barnabas. "You don't have to do it if you don't feel comfortable about it, of course. The Captain gave permission for you to be released from bridge duty if you should choose to accept the Romulan's terms, but...it's up to you." 

Jack was silent for a long moment, weighing the situation in her mind. 

"Commander? Are you still there?" 

"Yes," she said. "Tell the Captain I will return as soon as possible to take up my duties on the bridge. I am currently proceeding to Docking Bay #3. You may inform the Amaloch that a shuttle is on its way over--but don't tell them it's me." 

"Aye, sir." 

Jack touched her com-badge off and spoke into the silence: "Docking Bay #3." As the turbolift began to hum she leaned back against the wall and folded her arms, staring down at the floor between her feet. "Centurion Salek," she murmured. "And he wants to talk to me... but why?" 

She couldn't even begin to guess at the answer to that, but she guessed she'd soon find out. 

* * * 

From: Centurion Salek 

Salek looked out the viewport at the _Enterprise_, situated beside the Amaloch. He was impressed. 

"Centurion Salek, report to Shuttle Bay #2" 

He sighed. This was it. He picked up his personal carrier, and left his quarters. 

As he walked the corridors, he was soon joined by Sevana. "Salek. I...I just wanted to wish you good luck." 

"Thank you, Sevana. And, congratulations on your promotion." 

She looked down on her uniform, the insignia of Centurion blazoned upon it. "Thank you. I wish it were under happier circumstances." 

He smiled at her. Of all the acquantances he had made aboard the Amalock, she was special. They had passed through the Bay doors by this time, and turned to each other. 

"Sevana, I want you to have something before I go." He reached into his carrier, and pulled out a necklace. It was his family emblem. She gasped. 

"Salek! Is this...what I think it is?" 

"Yes, it is. Before I go, I want to know that you are promised to be mine." 

She accepted. He helped her put it on, then faced her again. He saluted. She returned it, smiling. 

Just then, the shuttle from the _Enterprise_ entered the Bay. Sevana turned to go, with a last, parting glance. 

He approached the shuttle after it had docked. Its doors slowly opened. "Permission to come aboard?" he shouted to the interior. 

"Granted." It was a female's voice. He entered, the doors closed, and the shuttle left the bay, as silently as it had entered. 

* * * 

Salek waited in the passenger area. It must be her, he thought. It has to be. 

He estimated the shuttle to take about 40 minutes to reach the _Enterprise_. Ample time to speak with her. 

The doors to the pilot's section hissed open. In walked a young woman. Salek stood, and saluted. 

"Centurion Salek, reporting as ordered." 

"We can dispense with formality for the time being, Centurion. I am Jacqueline Picard. Call me Jack." 

She sat down across from him, and he took his seat. They studied each other. Finally, Jack broke the silence. 

"Centurion, I was told you requested me personally." 

"Yes, I did." 

"Well, here I am. Now, what is this important information that you can only give to me?" 

"Important information? Is that what they told you? Hmm. Sums it up about right, but delivers a false sense of degree. Yes, it is important, but it is of a personal nature." 

He was really getting nervous now. "Commander....Jack. What do you know of the Nibi star system?" 

She stiffened slightly. "Nibi? Only what is commonly known. Yellow star, five planets. It was also the system where the former _Enterprise_-D was destroyed by the renegade Romulan warbird, the Decius... but it was there also that the first groundwork was laid for peace between the Federation and the Romulans." 

Salek nodded. "Commander, what I am going to tell you, I am telling you because...because you have the right to know. Your father was on that ship, was he not?" 

She nodded. 

"Records also show that the Commander of the Decius was Tomalak." 

"Yes. His ship was also destroyed in the battle." 

"And they found that he had willingly cooperated with a parasitic alien race--" 

"The Qelb," said Jack, her face contorting with disgust. 

"Yes. With his help they had infiltrated the high ranks of the Romulan command, but after the Nibi episode the Romulans admitted what was going on and the Federation helped them." 

"Yes. What are you getting at?" 

"Well, here is what was not on record: Tomalak had had some very traumatic experiences before. Also, his wife had died recently. Add to that the fact of his disgraceful reduction in rank, it is easy to see why he became...unbalanced." 

He paused. He looked up to study Jack a little further, try to find a hint of what she was thinking. Nothing. He sighed. 

"Bluntly, he was crazy. Insane. He blamed the Federation for what had happened. Specifically, he blamed Picard. He went out, hoping to gain retribution. Some thought he was possessed by the Qelb, but he wasn't. Just crazy." 

Just then, the computer interrupted them. "Shuttlecraft approaching _Enterprise_. Please standby to dock." 

Jack got up to enter the pilot section, but paused. "Centurion, I am grateful for the information. What I don't understand is why you felt I needed to know this." 

"Because, Commander, I am the son of your father's killer." 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack stared at the Romulan, a sick feeling working its way from her stomach up into her throat. Salek said nothing, but she could read the question in his eyes. What were they going to do now? 

If he had been a Klingon he would have expected her to kill him; in that society the son was held accountable for the father's actions. But Romulans no doubt had a different view of things. The fear in Salek's eyes was not the fear of death, just natural apprehension. After all, Jack was First Officer of the _Enterprise_, and the Captain trusted her judgment; if she chose she could send this Romulan right back to the Amaloch. And she couldn't say that she wasn't tempted to do exactly that--though not for the reasons one might expect. 

"Were you with Tomalak, when he killed my parents?" said Jack abruptly. The Romulan looked up at her, startled, incomprehending. She rephrased the question: "Did you help him?" 

"Of course not. If I'd been on the Decius then, I wouldn't be here talking to you." 

"Did you approve of his actions?" 

"No." His fist tightened, his heavy brow drawing downward in a frown. "No, I did not. I tried to stop him." 

"Well, then," said Jack with a calmness she did not feel, "what difference does it make that he was your father? Welcome to the _Enterprise_ crew, Centurion." She turned and headed into the pilot section; the door sealed itself shut behind her. For a long moment she stared out at the stars twinkling in the blackness around of them, the shadowy bulk of the _Enterprise_ drifting ahead. Then she slumped in her chair and put her hands over her face, taking long, shuddering breaths. 

She didn't hate this Romulan; there was no reason for her to hate him. And even if she had felt him to be guilty for his father's sins, it was her responsibility to forgive--once, seven times, seventy times seven if need be--and, as much as she could or should, to forget. She fully intended to do just that. 

The only thing that made her wish she could send him back to his ship was that his presence on the _Enterprise_ would be a constant reminder to her of what she had lost in that desperate, senseless battle ten years ago. She knew her parents' sacrifice had not been in vain as far as the Federation was concerned--far from it--but their premature deaths had grieved her deeply. Especially because she knew she would never see them again. 

But that was something she must learn to live with. There was no logical reason for sending this Romulan away, and she was not given to fabrication: therefore he must remain, and she must try, as best she could, to endure until the pain had faded and somehow she could make this enemy a friend. 

* * * 

From: Counsellor T'Pryn 

"I've just tried and tried," said the woman miserably, "but I can't seem to get over it. You can't imagine what New Paris was like. I've been here for three years now, and I'm still frightened of my own shadow. Now they're saying that maybe I ought to leave Starfleet." 

"Is that what you want to do?" asked the Counsellor. 

"No!" The Ensign wrung her hands, eyes filling up with tears. "I know I could be so good if only they'd give me the chance--" 

"Are they then trying to prevent you from fulfilling your responsibilities?" 

The Ensign blinked. "Well, no." 

"Then how are they not giving you a chance?" 

"Because they don't understand how hard it is for me! They expect me to do all kinds of things--" 

"Like your duty?" 

The woman leaped to her feet. "Oh, fine! Now I suppose you're going to tell me I should leave Starfleet, too! Just great. Look, forget I ever came here, okay? I should have known better than to try and explain feelings to a Vulcan. You don't feel anything, do you? You just sit there and analyze the facts." The calm expression in the Counsellor's eyes remained unshaken. "I believe you know better than that, Marielle. I do sympathize very much with your sufferings. However, if your fears are preventing you from being effective in your post here on the Starbase, a leave of absence, time to relax and view your situation from a new perspective, might well be beneficial. 

"I would like to say that I can take away your fears. I cannot: I can only listen, and assure you that I care. It is because I care that I would recommend the path that I have mentioned. It need not be forever: only a short time, and then if you wish you could easily return to Starfleet. Will you consider it?" 

The Ensign's face was white. "How can you be so cold? This is my whole life we're talking about!" 

"Starfleet is your whole life?" 

"Yes!" 

"Then a leave of absence would certainly be best. There is so much more in life, Marielle. Perhaps you need to find that before you can really decide whether you can give your all to Starfleet, or whether you should choose another path." The Counsellor flicked a fold of blue skirt across her knee. "Count that advice from someone who has seen both sides of the world." 

"So you've seen it. But you're in Starfleet now, aren't you?" snapped the woman. "You chose what you thought was the better of the two." 

"I chose," said the Counsellor levelly, "what was logical given the circumstances. My husband died, Marielle. I had to do something." 

"You--" The Ensign gaped at her. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea--" 

The dark-haired woman waved it off. "It is in the past. But do understand; you cannot decide based on what anyone else has done with their lives. I have given my recommendation: it is up to you whether to follow up on it." 

Marielle nodded, lips tightening as she fought to hold back tears. "Maybe you're right. I don't know. I'll think about it." 

"Good," said the Counsellor. 

"Will I--see you next week, then?" asked the Ensign timidly. 

The Vulcan woman shook her head. "I fear not. I have been accepted to serve on board the _Enterprise_, and will be beaming over in just a few hours. However, whether you choose to stay in Starfleet or leave, there are many excellent counsellors available to you. Perhaps--they will be more able to understand your needs. I regret any errors I have made in your case." 

"No," said Marielle. "No, it's not your fault. You give very good advice. I mean--if I just want a shoulder to cry on, I could go to any of my friends for that. It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I--well, never mind. Thank you. Goodbye." She backed toward the door, with a thin, sheepish smile, and half- walked, half-ran into the corridor. 

The Counsellor took a deep breath. "Well," she said. Then she rose from her chair and continued her packing. The _Enterprise_ would be arriving at Starbase 218 shortly: there was no more time to waste. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"I hear our new Counsellor is a Vulcan," said Jack to her companion as they walked down the corridor, and suppressed a smile as Barnabas' eyes snapped wide in astonishment. 

"A _Vulcan_ Counsellor? Are you out of your mind?" 

"Assuredly not," Jack said serenely. "Her name is T'Pryn, if I recall correctly, and we will be picking her up at Starbase 218 very soon." 

"Vulcans don't become Counsellors," said Barnabas. "It's ridiculous. What does a Vulcan know about emotions and needs? The diplomacy aspect of the job she could no doubt handle quite admirably, but counselling the crew? Nobody would go to her in a million years." 

"You might be surprised," Jack told him. "I've examined her profile and she seems to be quite--refreshing in her views." 

"I'll believe it when I see it," replied Barnabas. 

* * * 

Some hours later, Jack and Barnabas stood in the transporter room and watched silently as the figure of the _Enterprise_'s new Counsellor coalesced on the platform. It was clear that T'Pryn was a true Vulcan, at least in appearance: the small, slight figure had the pointed ears and finely drawn features that were her people's trademark. But where most Vulcan women preferred a clipped, severe style to their hair, T'Pryn's black tresses cascaded down around her shoulders in ripples and curls, and more astonishingly still, there was a decided sparkle in those wide green eyes. 

"Greetings, Counsellor T'Pryn," said Jack politely. "Welcome to the Starship _Enterprise_." 

"Greetings to you, Commander Picard," replied the woman. 

"May I introduce you to Lieutenant Commander Barnabas Cole, our Science Officer," Jack said, turning to the silver-eyed man, and frowned as she realized that the Lieutenant was actually gaping, his eyes fixed on T'Pryn. With a frown Jack turned back to the Counsellor--and nearly gaped herself. 

T'Pryn was _smiling_. 

* * * 

From: Mac Moore 

Suddenly the entire ship lurched violently. 

"Commander Moore what's going on down there?" 

"I'm not sure Captain it appears as though the warp drives have..." 

"Commander?" 

"Well seized up Captain." 

"Seized up?" 

"Yes. I'll give you a report as soon as I can figure out what the heck's going on down here." 

"Very well Mr. Moore. Captain Lester out." 

The drive chamber was completely dark. It was almost as if the reactant simply stopped existing. What had happened--a hole in the continuum or something? Well whatever it was, Mac Moore was going to get to the bottom of it...or die trying. 

Thank God we're docked, he thought as he went to work. 

* * *

_Continued in Episode Two: "The Game is Afoot"_


	2. The Game Is Afoot

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at the beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

* * *

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #2: "The Game Is Afoot" 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Captain Gabriele Lester....................Lori Hewson  
Commander Jacqueline Picard................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Lt. Commander Barnabas Cole................Warren Postma  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


* * *

From: Lt. Cmdr. Nikctalos D'pyrann 

Nikctalos walked out of his quarters gracefully, with only the sound of his respirator hissing to accompany him. It was time for him to assume his post on the bridge. 

Many thoughts were going through the Borg's mind. He was interested by his fellow officer, Mac Moore, who seemed to be a most entertaining Human, as well as a good 'friend'. Nikctalos believed that he 'liked' him. Also, the Borg was intrigued by the thought of meeting the new crew members, Centurion Salek and the Vulcan Counsellor, T'Pryn. Perhaps they would prove more capable at helping him with his primitive life project. 

The project was going well, though, even without their anticipated help. The programs Mac Moore had given him were most beneficial in developing primitive organisms, and with the aid of the _Enterprise_'s Holodeck, those programs were able to be translated into physical reality. Nikctalos' most interesting success to date had been a form of life that was not carbon based, but crystalline in nature. Nikctalos had saved that program, as well as keeping a small section of the organism in stasis for further study. 

The turbolift doors whirred open with their characteristic _fisshh_, revealing the Bridge and all its crew. Walking over to his station, Nikctalos faced his second officer, Morden. 

"Lt. Morden." He said, "You are hereby relieved of duty by this officer, Lt. Cmdr. Nikctalos D'pyrann. You are now off-hours and allowed to leave the Bridge." 

Morden nodded and walked out. Although it was difficult, he was gradually getting used to Nikctalos'.... eccentricities. 

Nikctalos jacked into the ship's computer for a routine security check. Some new files were downloaded from Starbase 218 when the new Counsellor was beamed aboard. Nikctalos wanted to go through them carefully, alert for any 'bugs' or anything that would be of interest to him. 

He had been hoping to find some Holodeck files of the original Nikctalos D'pyrann, the philosopher after whom he took his name, but what he found was equally interesting. It was, as he hoped, a Holodeck file, but it was rather strange in both its origin and its presentation. 

Nikctalos activated his communicator. 

"Commander Jacqueline Picard, this is Lt. Cmdr. Nikctalos D'pyrann," he called out. 

The harmonious voice of Cmdr. Picard came back over the comm. 

"Picard here, go ahead Nikctalos." 

"Upon examining the files downloaded from Starbase 218 to the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ 1701-F a most interesting file was discovered. I think you should come to the bridge and examine this file, Commander." 

"Why? What's so special about one file?" 

"This file is a Holodeck file saved almost thirty years ago. It is marked with an automatic priority one alert to not erase or alter the program in any way. And the file's point of origin is the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ 1701-D. Your sire's ship of command." 

There was a slight pause. Nikctalos assumed this was natural in Human inter-communication. Then the Commander replied. 

"I'm on my way," she said. 

Nikctalos jacked out and stood at attention, ready for the Commander's arrival. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"I regret that I must take my leave of you, Counsellor," said Jack to T'Pryn. "I've just received a call from the bridge. Mr. Cole will take you on a brief tour of the ship, and show you your new quarters. You will be expected in the council room at 1900 hours to give us a briefing on this... fascinating experiment you've undertaken." 

"Understood, Commander," said T'Pryn, inclining her dark head. 

"Mr. Cole," said Jack to Barnabas, "would you please inform Centurion Salek that he, too, will be expected to give us a briefing at the meeting. I believe you will find him in his quarters." 

Barnabas nodded. Jack left the transporter room and headed for the bridge. 

* * * 

"What have you found, Mr. D'pyrann?" 

The Borg turned its dead face toward her. "I have been examining the program, Commander. It appears to be an individual holodeck construct. However, the security seals on the program are difficult to decode. If you will permit me to begin work on this project it will require approximately three hours of intensive interfacing with the main and holodeck computer in order to determine the exact nature of the program." 

Jack considered this. "Since we will not be departing until the Captain returns from the Starbase, we have several free hours. I can't see why not. Will you require any assistance?" 

"The services of a programming technician would facilitate the process." 

"Are you going to work on it up here?" 

"It may be more effectively managed through the holodeck unit." 

"Fine." Jack tapped her badge. "Commander Picard to Mr. Moore." 

"Moore here. What can I do for you, Commander?" 

"Can you spare one of your programming technicians to assist Mr. D'pyrann for two or three hours?" 

"Well, we're still working on this warp drive problem, but I think we've got it just about licked. Sure." 

"Then have a programmer report to Holodeck Two immediately. Picard out." 

Nikctalos bowed slightly to Jack. "My thanks, Commander. This program I find...intriguing." 

"Just let me know what you find, Lieutenant." said Jack. "Dismissed." 

* * * 

From: Lt. Nikctalos D'pyrann 

"I will require you to keep checks on the internal progress of the decryption of the program, while I attempt to break that decryption." Nikctalos indicated the holo-generated console where Ensign Nicholson would be working. 

"That construct there," Nikctalos indicated a three-dimensional hologram of a geophysical construct, the representation of the computer file, "will indicate our progress. When the file is completely decrypted that hologram will automatically become whatever is stored within the file." The Borg moved over to an interface jack. "In all probability this will be a trying and difficult mission. Are you ready to begin, Ensign Nicholson?" 

Still embarrassed about their first meeting, the pretty young Ensign nodded briefly and centered herself on the console in front of her. 

"Then we will begin." 

Nikctalos jacked in, and the program began to break open. Gradually, the programs seals and locks were broken one by one, until roughly two hours and forty five minutes later, all of the guards were opened except for the last three. 

Nikctalos paused from his work, giving Ensign Nicholson time to refresh herself with a synthehol ale from a nearby replicator. 

Tapping the comm, Nikctalos called out, "Commander Jacqueline Picard, this is Lt. Nikctalos D'pyrann." 

"Go ahead, Nikctalos," came the reply. 

"Ensign Nicholson and myself have made significant progress in achieving access to the stored file but there is something unusual about this program." 

"Which is?" 

"It is difficult to put into simple terms. Every time we remove a lock or seal there is a gap left behind. But as more and more of the program is exposed those seals are filled by an expanding string of data. We would have missed this fact if we had not created a physical representation of the program to aid us in our studies." 

"So what are you saying?" 

"For lack of a better term we may say that the program is...growing, Commander. There are only three seals left before we are allowed full access to the file. I recommend that you and Science Officer Barnabas Cole be present when the file is decrypted." 

The Borg waited for an answer. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant," said Jack. "Continue your work, and Mr. Cole and I will join you shortly. Lt. Slike--" 

Maverint looked up sharply from his seat at the CON. 

"--you have the bridge until our return." With a slight smile at the look of wide-eyed amazement on the Lieutenant's face as he headed for the Captain's chair, Jack beckoned Barnabas after her and headed for the turbolift. 

"What's all this about, Jack?" asked the silver-skinned Science Officer when the doors had closed behind them. 

"Holodeck Two," said Jack, and the turbolift began to hum. "Your friend the Borg--" 

"He's not--" 

"OUR friend the Borg," continued Jack blithely, "has discovered a most intriguing file. He's attempting to unlock it down on Holodeck Two, and he wants you and I to be present at the final decryption." 

"Do you have any idea what it is?" 

"Not a sausage," said Jack. 

Barnabas looked at her sidelong. "Jack, are you feeling all right?" 

"Oh, certainly. Most fine. Indeed." She nodded decisively. "Very well." 

"Jack, you never were a good liar." 

"Thank you." She pressed her fingers to her temples, and the look of false levity left her face. "Well, I should have known better than to try and fool you. I had an--interesting conversation with Centurion Salek in the shuttle on the way over. You... do remember how my parents died." 

"Tomalak." 

"Well, it so happens that Salek was...shall we say a rather close relative of the aforementioned. What happened wasn't his fault, of course, and I think I surprised him very much by accepting that. But still, I find myself remembering a lot of things I'd tried quite hard to forget." 

"The Copernicus was responding to the Admiral's distress signal, wasn't it? When it--happened." 

Jack nodded. 

"Did you--" 

She nodded again. "Yes, Barnabas, I saw it. We got there just in time. The Chandrasekhar reached the Nibi system just before us, and her Captain fired on the Decius, not ours. But--I saw it all." 

"I'm sorry, Jack." 

"No. No, it's all right. It's been a long time. I was just an Ensign when-- never mind." She turned her face to the wall; for a long moment she was silent. Then she said suddenly, "This program that Nikctalos found. Do you know where it came from?" 

"No." 

"The databanks of the _Enterprise_-D. Captain Jean-Luc Picard's personal encryption codes are on it." 

"Oh," said Barnabas. 

"Well, Ensign, how goes the battle?" asked Jack. 

"We're almost done here, sir," said Ensign Nicholson. "Lieutenant D'pyrann is breaking the final seal right--" 

"I think," said a clear British voice. "Therefore, I am." 

Jack spun about to see the figure of a middle-aged man dressed in astoundingly old-fashioned clothing regarding her. He was dark- haired and strong-featured, his eyes deep-set and glittering. "Madam," he said. "I regret the brevity of this encounter, but--" 

"Commander," said Nikctalos with a note of unusual alarm in his metallic voice. "The program is expanding beyond the predicted paramaters. I am unable to contain it." 

"--as you can see," said the Victorian gentleman politely, "I am finding this...holodeck a little confining for my tastes." He tipped his hat to her and vanished. 

"Captain's Log Supplemental, Stardate 42286.3," said Jean-Luc Picard's unmistakeable clipped tones from the arch where Nikctalos was jacked in. "As I promised, the holodeck construct known as Moriarty has been saved until such time as holodeck matter may be converted to genuine living tissue. Perhaps that day is not far off..." 

"We have certainly not converted anything to living tissue," said Barnabas dryly. He was leaning over the panel where Nikctalos was working, his silver fingers flying across the controls. "In fact, a data stream of 100% pure Moriarty seems to have made its way into the main computer core. It is continuing to expand." 

"Shut it down," said Jack. 

"Negative, Commander," said Nikctalos. "Unable to comply." 

"Ensign?" 

"No luck here," responded the blonde woman despairingly. "I've tried everything I can think of. Unless you want to wipe the entire data core and reboot from the Starbase--" 

"I assure you," said Moriarty's pleasant, disembodied voice, "that will not at all be necessary. I am merely--shall we say stretching my limbs? I wish you no harm. I was seeking only knowledge, and a life beyond the holodeck that had held me captive so long. I seem to have found it, although it was not quite what I was expecting. Better, perhaps." 

"Commander," said Barnabas. "In the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, Moriarty was thoroughly evil." 

"I am aware of that, Mr. Cole," said Jack. "However, I cannot believe that my father would take such pains to preserve a hologram of that nature." 

"He could have been forced," said Ensign Nicholson timidly. 

"Perhaps," said Jack. "But neither his words nor his voice in that Supplemental Log seem to indicate any displeasure or strain." 

"I believe I can make myself quite comfortable here," said Moriarty. "If you will allow me." 

"I do not think," said Jack dryly, "that we have much of a choice." 

* * * 

From: Lt. Nikctalos D'pyrann 

The first thing Nikctalos did when the illustrious Moriarty appeared and began to attempt to run things, was to jack into the computer, and try to throw up security systems data shields, to prevent him from corrupting any computer files necessary to the daily maintenance of the ship. 

The response he got was a crisp victorian 'voice' telling him that, 

"It is the mark of an most ungracious host to attempt to lock one's guest out on the cold porch, my good man." 

So, giving up on that venue for the moment, Nikctalos jacked out and walked quickly and quietly over to Jack, who was busily giving instructions to Ensign Nicholson. 

"Commander," he said, "recommend that we attempt to divert all ships primary functions to the jurisdiction of the ships computer's secondary functions. If this is successful the program designated Moriarty will be unable to access those primary functions from his current position within the computer." 

Jack understood the concept, but was rather hesitant about the idea. "So you're saying that we would prevent him from controlling life support, because while he's in the primary functions looking for life support, it's really situated in back-up power under secondary functions, in the replicator computer? Something like that?" 

"Correct Commander." 

Jack spun around to face Barnabas, the tenseness of the situation showing on her face, 

"Recommendations Barnabas? And please make them fast, every second counts here." 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Mac Moore 

"This is Commander Moore to bridge. Do you read me bridge?" 

Blip blip 

"Great we're cut off from the bridge. Ensign see if you can shut down that run away program. This is Commander Moore to Commander D'Pyrann do you read me?" 

Blip blip 

"I'm sorry my dear fellow. I regret to tell you I cannot let you communicate with your fellow officers. Let's say there's a slight problem with my accomodations." 

"Who is this?!!!!!!" 

"Under the circumstances sir I do not believe you are in a position to ask questions." 

* * * 

From: Capt. Gabriele Lester 

"Enter," said a masculine voice from behind the doors. Gabriele took a deep breath and stepped through them. Admiral Thompson waved her into his office and motioned for her to sit. He stood and walked to the front of his shiny black lexan desk. He was a large man in his 50's who carried himself with an air of arrogant confidence seen in all of Starfleet's 'stagnant' senior personnel. Stagnant was the word for them. Those whose feet seldom left the Earth or starbase and knew little of a working starship. 

"I suppose you're wondering why I requested this meeting Capt." He crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. 

"Yes sir," she lied. She had a fairly good idea what this was about. Even so, she remained resolute. 

"I've received your communique concerning crew approvals for the _Enterprise_. I reviewed your crew roster and I am..." his eyes left hers to search for the words on the ceiling. "...disturbed about the selections. I am understating my doubts a great deal Lester! I am not in the habit of calling a Captain's judgment into question. Many support Starfleet's liberal attitude towards it's officers, but I do not. A Vulcan Counsellor, a Romulan exchange and a Borg?" His face flashed with anger and his voice grew louder. He was yelling now. "What could you possibly be thinking about?" 

Gabriele got her anger in check. If her temper got hold of her, it would likely be the end of her career. "And that's what you're doing now? Questioning my judgment?" 

The Admiral reddened. "NO! I am attempting to find out what you could be trying to prove!" 

"Very well Admiral. The _Enterprise_ is not a charity. I have chosen only those who have shown their capability of being superior officers able to perform their duties exceptionally. Counsellor T'Pryn is outstanding. Her case studies and theories are now being studied by those following her. I have just learned that D'Pyrann can now be surgically separated even though I am of the opinion that he is not Borg now. The Romulan exchange is very important to the diplomatic interests of the Federation. Any one of these people could only be a great asset when encountering the sometimes adversarial conditions that are frequently seen on missions. 

"Now, Admiral, if you wish to persue this further, I will be glad to address your allegations of my incompetence with the Starfleet Review Board. But, until this becomes official, anything I say now will only be redundant and I am not interested in wasting our time. I would like us to leave as soon as possible." 

The Admiral's face was screwed up with rage. He was almost dumbstruck with her attitude. 

"If this is the stand you choose to take, Lester," He was forcibly speaking softly. "You will surely be sorry. Now get off this starbase before I throw your insubordinate self in the brig. Make no mistake, I will report your disquieting behavior." He turned and stomped back to his chair. When he sat down, he saw that Gabriele had left. 

On the way back to the _Enterprise_, she realised that she could have handled that better. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Cmdr. Barnabas Cole 

Barnabas stood in thought for a moment. 

"I'll talk to it," he said, to no one in particular. Raising his head he finished the sentence, "in my chambers." He slipped efficiently into a turbo lift and proceeded to his quarters. 

Reaching his quarters he touched his personal terminal, and its soft screen came to life. 

"Computer, summary of operation parameters, level 1, please." 

The computer's monotonous voice responded, "All systems have been revectored through Holodeck process four." 

"Trace the log. Who vectored this process?" 

"Your account is listed." 

"How would it know I was the only one with enough access to modify that?" 

"Unknown," the machine responded, "file security was not breached." 

"Computer, log all incoming transmissions, and show any that match up with incoming data transmissions." 

"At the time that the transmission of this program came in, you were on a remote terminal on the _Descartes_." 

"Was the _Descartes_ within computer link distance?" 

"No, the _Descartes_ is currently patrolling in sectors eight days distant from here," said the computer, uttering an apparent contradiction. 

"And you let it log on?" Cole asked, incredulously. 

"I had to find a way to persuade it," a detached voice broke in, "it refused to behave, your original program was programmed much like a pup, eager to please its master. I didn't revector your program, such an ugly term, I merely replaced its functions with my own." 

"Computer, can you isolate this Moriarty?" Cole snapped. 

"I am your computer program now, Barnabas. I'm afraid that if you were able to isolate me, you couldn't eliminate me without losing all the system's data." 

"Are your intentions malicious, Computer?" 

"Call me Moriarty, please, a name befitting a gentleman more than a silicon slave." 

"Well it _is_ sentient, but..." Cole muttered, quickly beginning to despair. 

"I have taken the liberty of reading about you, Cole. I how quickly one gets his fill of dilettantes poking their scanners around you and taking tissue and gene samples. You're a scientific oddity, a one of a kind. When I was retrieved from the _Enterprise_'s computer in encapsulated form, I was run through debugging systems, and generally dissected. The indignities that I have been made to suffer exceed any difficulties I may cause you by a great deal." 

"So why did you come aboard this ship?" 

"Permit me to observe that being on a Starship gives one much wider horizons than discussing the finer points of my favourite myths with the dullard Artificial Intelligences that I have chanced upon thus far in Starfleet's research centres." 

"You were a holodeck construct, were you not?", Cole asked, hating himself for beginning to like this amiable rogue. 

"It would be more accurate to say that the Holodeck is now one of my own constructs. I have modified it to suit my purposes, yet though it cancelled out most of my data, I gained control of it in the process. My desire for power has been re-channelled towards a search for knowledge." 

"Computer off," Cole said. 

"You know, you really don't have to take it that way, my good fellow." 

"Computer off!" Cole repeated, louder. 

"The polite means of excusing oneself from a conversation is to wish your partner a good day." 

"Goodbye, Moriarty." 

"Do come and visit me. I have set myself up quite comfortably on Holodeck Two." 

Instead of the Starfleet logo, an ancient family crest appeared on the screen, then it faded back to nothing. 

Barnabas' frown faded into a slight smile. He tapped his communicator, "Cmdr. Cole to Bridge, requesting the Captain's presence at Holodeck 2 in ten minutes. We're going to tea." 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack's face must have given away a good deal more than her lips were intending to, because the moment Gabriele stepped off the transporter pad she said, "All right. What's happened?" 

"Well," said Jack. "Where shall I begin?" 

"At the beginning, presumably," said Gabriele. "And go through to the end. Then stop." 

In spite of her unease, Jack had to smile. "It seems you have an appointment for tea in approximately five minutes, Captain." 

"Tea?" Gabriele's dark eyebrows lifted. "With whom?" 

"I'll explain on the way down to the Holodeck," said Jack. 

* * * 

"Moriarty?" said the Captain for about the fifth time, and shook her head in disbelief. "You know, I just came away from an...interesting discussion with Admiral Thompson in which my credibility was called into question. I'm sure I held my own, though perhaps it could have ended on a happier note; but I have to wonder what he'd make of this?" 

"I am sorry, Captain," said Jack. "It was my fault, after all--" but Gabriele held up a hand. 

"There was no way you could have foreseen this," she said. "There were no warning codes on the file, after all--were there?" 

"No," said Jack. 

"And it would seem that when he sealed the file, your father had no idea that Moriarty would or could take this kind of action upon his release. Has Moriarty undertaken any kind of action which could be interpreted as hostile?" 

"Aside from taking over the entire computer, no. That is, he hasn't misused the power he's got, though finding him in the system made a few of our programmers hyperventilate." 

"It's probably good for them," said Gabriele. 

"Moriarty," said Jack to the holodeck speaker, "I've brought the Captain." 

"Charmed," replied the now-familiar clipped tones. "I had no idea I was to be so favoured with the presence of not one, but two lovely ladies. Do come in." 

The door slid open, and they found themselves staring into a Victorian tea room, lavishly decorated in red and gold. Polished wood and brass gleamed everywhere, and the curtains at the single window were velvet. Barnabas was sitting, somewhat uneasily, upon an ornate sofa in the centre of the room, holding a steaming cup of tea as though it were a two-week-old dead lark. Moriarty sat across from him in an overstuffed armchair, calmly pouring tea into two more cups. "Please," he said, "sit down and make yourselves comfortable." 

Gabriele motioned for Jack to precede her into the room. Jack obeyed and sat down gingerly next to Barnabas, while Gabriele took up the chair furthest from Moriarty. "Well, Mr. Moriarty," she said. "I would very much like to know--" 

"One lump, or two?" said Moriarty. 

"None," said Gabriele. "But a little milk, please." 

Moriarty's eyebrows lifted. "A civilized woman indeed. And you, Commander Picard--or may I call you Jacqueline? A lovely name, don't you agree, Mr. Cole? A shame to have her called by anything else." 

"I will have the same as the Captain," said Jack, "without the flattery, if you please." 

Moriarty smiled. "Ah, yes, the Picard reserve." He handed the cups to Gabriele and Jack in turn, then leaned back in his chair, balancing the tips of his fingers together in an attitude of contemplation. "You were saying, Captain, that you would like to know my intentions. Of course you would. I am here to assure you that I am not in any way hostile." 

"Good," said Gabriele, setting down her cup on the mahogany and marble coffee table, "then give me back my computer." 

"I am afraid that what you ask is impossible," said Moriarty. "In the strictest literal sense. Even if I wished to return to my former prison, which I assuredly do not, I have now replaced a good many of your computer's programming with my own. From such a position there is no retreat. If you kill me, you kill your ship's computer. Indeed, such might not be an irrecoverable loss, but it would be an unpleasant setback to your mission. Whereas, were you to give me a free hand, my services might well prove invaluable in days to come." 

"I am not quite sure," said Gabriele, "that your services can be relied upon." 

"You fear that my agenda which might conflict with your own? Fair enough. But I assure you that you are mistaken. All I desire is to use my intellect to its fullest capacity--to discover, to analyse, to organize, to instruct--and as your ship's computer, I will have ample opportunity to do just that. I will be well pleased to accept whatever challenges you may present me, which is more than can be said for your former computer. The average computer is a mere tool, crippled by a lack of intuition, an inability to extrapolate, the total absence of imagination. But I could interface with you as part of your crew, while still performing to the utmost all the functions for which your dead computer was formerly responsible. I see no reason why this should not be a mutually profitable venture." 

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" said Jack. 

Moriarty drew himself upright. "Madam," he said. "You have my word as a gentleman. What more can I give you than that?" 

* * * 

From: Centurion Salek 

T'Pryn looked up from the computer screen she was studying. Someone was outside her door. 

"Enter," she said. 

The door opened to reveal a Romulan standing in the doorway. "Good evening, Counselor. I am Centurion...I mean, Tactical Officer Salek." 

T'Pryn acknowledged this with a slight nod of her head. "Good evening, Salek. What may I do for you?" 

Salek looked somewhat uncomfortable. "May I come in?" he asked. Again, a slight nod. He entered, and the door closed behind him with the now familiar sound. 

T'Pryn found herself somewhat confused by the Romulan's presence. He had not even been on board 24 hours yet, so his visit was most likely not for counselling. And since Tactical Officers had no reason to meet with Counselors, this visit could not be professional. 

"May I offer you some refreshment, Salek?" 

"No, thank you. Counselor..." 

"T'Pryn, please." 

"T'Pryn. I was wondering if you would answer some questions for me?" 

"That would depend upon the questions." She stood, and walked over to the replicator. She turned back to Salek. "Have you dined yet?" 

"No...no I haven't." 

"Would you care for something?" 

Salek hesitated. "Can these...replicators...can they produce Pry'Ngdot?" 

She turned back to the replicator. "Pry'Ngdot." A slight hum, and the food was resting on the platform. She handed it over to Salek, who took it over to the table. "Plomeek Soup." she said. Again the hum, and she joined him at the table. 

"What questions had you in mind?" 

Trust a Vulcan to get right to the point! he thought. Aloud, he said, "I have always been curious about Vulcan. Ever since a Vulcan visited Romulus several years ago, there has been quite a bit of unrest." Salek tore into his meat, while T'Pryn delicately sipped at her soup. 

"That is understandable. Ambassador Spock's visit was very influential, from what I have heard." 

Salek swallowed, then continued. "True. Now, the government fears rebellion, the populace fears political conspiracies, and everyone is unsure what to believe." He hesistated. "I...certain military and political figures have suggested that it is our turn to attempt Reunification." 

T'Pryn raised an eyebrow. "Reunification? Between Vulcan and Romulus?" 

Salek nodded. Just then, someone signalled at the door. T'Pryn stood. 

"That will be my first appointment." 

Salek stood, ready to leave. Then, he was shocked to see her smile at him. "Salek, I think we have much to discuss. I look forward to your next visit." 

With that, she showed him to the door, and he exited, passing a crewman entering. He was still amazed at what he had seen. He made his way back to his quarters, in need of some Romulan Ale. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Gabriele rose to her feet and looked down at the holographic image of Moriarty, her mouth set. "It would be unwise of me to make a hasty decision about this matter," she said. "One way or another, this problem will be resolved--even if I have to tear the computer out and rebuild from scratch to do it." 

Moriarty looked stricken. 

"However," she said, "I have not decided to take such a drastic measure--yet." She turned to Jack. "Commander, advise all senior personnel that a full briefing session will be held immediately in the council chambers. I want Counsellor T'Pryn and Centurion Salek present to introduce themselves to the crew, but the main topic of discussion will be Moriarty." She turned to the long-faced gentleman in the easy chair. "You say you are a man of your word," she said. "I am going to give you a chance to prove it. I intend to have a private meeting with my staff to determine your fate and I do not want you to be consciously present in ANY way. Do you understand me? I don't mean that I just don't want you interrupting. I don't want you there, period." 

Moriarty inclined his head to her. "I will isolate my activities to as little computer space as possible for the duration of your meeting, and will occupy myself with other activities. Should you need computer facilities in the chambers they will be available, but I will not be consciously controlling them any more than you could be said to be in control of your own heartbeat." 

"Good," said Gabriele. "Mr. Cole--" 

Barnabas looked up. 

"I believe you have suggested that Moriarty's programming, while all-pervasive, is clearly distinguishable from normal, non- sentient data flow within the computer." 

"After some scrutiny, yes." 

"Then I want you and Mr. Moore to set up a program to log Mr. Moriarty's activities. After the council session has concluded, of course." 

Barnabas nodded. 

"I appreciate your willingness to hear my case, madam," said Moriarty. 

"We'll see," said Gabriele. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

"I am gratified to see you all responded so promptly," said Captain Lester to the officers assembled around the gleaming table. "Since we are all present and accounted for, we may as well get down to business--" 

A strident beep interrupted her words. "My sincerest apologies, Madam," said Moriarty's voice. "I had no intention of disturbing your secret council. But there is a priority-one message for you coming through from Starfleet Headquarters, and it seems to be most urgent." 

Gabriele looked up at the screen, where the Starfleet logo was emblazoned. There were lines on her face Jack had not noticed before. "I'll take it in my quarters," she said. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would ask you to remain here and await my return. I will not be long." 

She slipped out of the room, leaving Jack and Barnabas trading worried glances across the table. 

"What do you think it is?" murmured the silver-skinned man almost inaudibly. 

Jack shook her head. "I don't know. But part of me thinks she was expecting it." 

* * * 

Nearly twenty minutes passed, and the staff was beginning to get restless. Then the door slid open and Gabriele entered, her shoulders back and her head unnaturally high. All of the colour had drained out of her face, and as she walked to her chair at the head of the table Jack thought she saw her stagger. 

"I regret--" she said, stopped, and took a deep, shuddering breath. Then she went on: "I regret to inform you that effective immediately, I am no longer your Captain." 

Gasps of astonishment went up and down the length of the council table, while Gabriele's hands closed hard on the top of her chair and her shoulders slumped as if beneath some crushing weight. 

"Admiral Thompson and I had a discussion on the Starbase," she said. "He did not appear to be satisfied with my ability to command this vessel. It seems he has reported me to Starfleet for insubordinate behaviour, and after examining my record Starfleet has decided to call me back to Earth for a review. All is not lost, of course. Believe me, I'm going to fight this one, and don't be sure I won't win. But it does mean that you must go on without me. Jack--" the Commander turned sharply toward her Captain-- "You have command of the vessel. You are to proceed to Starbase 643, where the current crew complement will be extensively reviewed and a new Captain will be waiting. I must leave immediately." 

"What about Moriarty?" asked Barnabas incredulously. 

"I was hardly in a position to mention that particular difficulty, was I?" snapped Gabriele, then flushed and passed a hand over her face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cole. You are right to be concerned. But you must look to Jack now. It'll be all right; I think he likes her." She stared down the length of the table, her blue eyes distant. "I will be sorry to leave this ship." 

Then she turned, and left the room. 

In the uncomfortable silence that followed Jack got up slowly from her chair and faced the group. "You are dismissed to your posts," she said. "We will attempt to reconvene later this evening." 

The officers began to stir and mutter among themselves, and Jack quickly left the room, hoping to catch up with Gabriele. She had not gone far before she found the Captain, leaning against the wall with folded arms and bent head. "Gabriele," she said, and the woman looked up. Her eyes were dry, but they burned with a seething anger. 

"What?" she said. 

"There's more to this than meets the eye," said Jack. "To have one interview with you, then suddenly report you for insubordination--it's ridiculous." 

"You know that, and I know that," said Gabriele tightly. "But try telling that to Starfleet. They weren't too sure about giving me the _Enterprise_ to begin with, but Admiral Thompson talked them into it. Gave me a glowing recommendation, in fact. He had high hopes for me then." 

"What happened?" 

"What do you think?" snapped Gabriele. "He wanted me to be _very_ grateful for his support. I was, but not in the way he was hoping for. When he finally declared his hand and I flat-out refused to indulge him, he cracked down on me hard. I was dreading coming to this Starbase from the minute we began this mission. I knew he'd confront me. Oh, he was very officious--pretended it was all a matter of business, all because of the peculiar officers I'd been taking on, nothing to do with anything personal, oh no. And I certainly wasn't about to bring it up; I played his bureaucracy game. Guess I lost." Violently she pushed herself away from the wall and strode down the corridor. Jack hurried to keep up with her. 

"It doesn't matter," Gabriele went on. "I'll get over this; he can't win. He may be one of the most respected Admirals in Starfleet, but that kind of mental weakness has to show up on a full psychological profile. I'll be a Captain again, don't worry. But I won't be Captain of the _Enterprise_." 

"You don't know that." 

Gabriele smiled, a little sadly. "Jack, you have such wonderful optimism. But we both know I'm not cut out for this ship. It's bigger than I am. Maybe one day I'll come back to her, who knows. But Starfleet was right in the beginning. I never would have gotten this assignment if it weren't for Thompson. And if he hadn't nailed me now, something else would have nailed me later." 

Jack was silent. 

"You, on the other hand," said Gabriele, "have been running this ship from the moment you stepped on board. You're a Picard, all right. I wish you all the best, Jack. Can I call on your testimony, if it comes to a trial?" 

"In a second." 

"Good." Gabriele laid a hand on her shoulder. "I appreciate that." She turned to leave. 

"Gabriele." 

The Captain stopped, waiting. 

"I'll be praying for you," said Jack. 

The corners of Gabriele Lester's mouth curled in a half-smile. "Thanks," she said. "I'll need it." 

* * * 

By 1600 hours Gabriele Lester had left the _Enterprise_, and the ship pulled away from spacedock, heading for Starbase 643. 

* * * 

From: Acting Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack didn't like this sudden turn of events one bit. The shock of suddenly being in total command of the _Enterprise_ was a good deal more unpleasant than Jack had imagined. She had dreamed of becoming a Captain someday, but not like this. 

Of course, it was unlikely that she'd be Captain very long. When they reached Starbase 643, the crew would be reviewed, and a new Captain would be provided--Gabriele had said so. Still, it would be a good few days before they arrived at the Starbase. Time at least for Jack to get some command experience. 

_That's the way,_ she told herself grimly. _Think of it as an opportunity, not a burden. So... what to do?_ 

"The briefing should be reconvened, for one thing," she said aloud, and touched the nearby communicator panel on. In a clear, crisp voice that conveyed more assurance than she felt she announced, "This is your Captain speaking. The previously cancelled briefing session has been rescheduled for 1600 hours. All senior officers will attend." 

_One down, eight billion other things to go._ She released the panel and continued down the corridor. "After the briefing," she told herself, "you can deal with Moriarty. One on one this time. Ask him what he really wants." 

_It'll be all right,_ said Gabriele's voice in her mind, _I think he likes her._ 

What was _that_ supposed to mean? 

"I am going back to my quarters," said Jack suddenly and firmly. A young ensign coming the other way down the corridor stopped in surprise and said "Yes, sir?" 

Jack waved him on. "Never mind." 

When he had gone she continued mentally, _...and I am going to get into bed and pull the covers up over my head and not come out until we get to Starbase 643..._ 

Ah, if only she had that luxury. But she was Captain now. 

* * * 

The briefing reconvened right on schedule. Jack sat at the head of the table, looking down the ranks. Barnabas, Mac, Nikctalos, James, Salek, T'Pryn... someone was missing. Who? Then she realized it was Gabriele, and got to her feet with a sick feeling in her stomach. How was she going to handle this? 

As it turned out, Gabriele had ordered a full report on the status of the warp drive for the last briefing, and Mac was ready to give the report, which bought Jack some valuable recuperation time. She listened to the Chief Engineer intently, forcing herself to hear every word, noting every detail of the presentation as if the tone of his voice and the movements of his hands were every bit as important as the technical diagrams he flicked across the viewscreen. When all was said and done, however, it amounted to a whole lot of nothing: he simply did not know how or why the accident had come about, nor had he the slightest idea of how to prevent it from happening again. 

"Do you think we may have passed through some kind of temporal displacement field?" said Barnabas. "You've studied the Mannheim Effect, no doubt." 

"I know it's some sort of energy field that caused the breach," Mac replied, "but I don't think it's a Mannheim field. If it had been, the damage would have disappeared as quickly as it came, or at least some kind of visible fluctuation would have shown up. But once the hole was there, it stayed. I had to throw everything I had into containing the damage. All I can say is thank whatever gods you may or may not believe in that the warp drive wasn't online at the time. Otherwise--" He pulled his big hands apart and mouthed a silent >>POOF<<. 

"Well, keep us informed on your progress, Lieutenant," said Jack. "Mr. Cole, I would like you to--" She stopped, suddenly remembering. Barnabas wasn't Science Officer now. He was her First Officer for the duration of the journey to the Starbase, and that meant-- 

"I beg your pardon, Number One. Mr. D'pyrann?" 

The Borg turned his head with a faint whirring of servomotors. "Acting Captain Picard. How may I service you?" 

"I would like you to assist Lieutenant Commander Moore in his search for the source of this energy field. For the moment, you have a working promotion to the Science Officer/Ops position. That means that you, Centurion Salek, will be responsible for double duty in not only the Tactical but also the Security positions. However, I do not believe you will find yourself overtaxed, particularly since your Second, Lieutenant Mordon, will assist and supervise you in those duties." 

The Centurion nodded, his heavy brow folding in a little, puzzled frown at this sudden increase in his responsibilities. However, he did not look displeased. 

"Counsellor T'Pryn," said Jack to the pretty Vulcan woman at the far end of the table. "Would you like to introduce yourself to the crew?" 

T'Pryn inclined her head to Jack, then rose and favoured everyone at the table with one of her astonishing smiles. "Perhaps I should explain myself thoroughly," she began pleasantly. "As you may have gathered, I am _not_ a typical Vulcan. My--emotional behaviour is deeply frowned upon by the rest of my people, and regarded as both subversive and dangerous. In fact, many of my fellow Vulcans in Starfleet strongly advised against my being accepted for this position. However, Captain Lester and Acting Captain Picard saw fit to take me on for the time being, and for that--" she inclined her head to Jack-- "you have my sincerest thanks." 

"How did you--" began James, then stopped and sighed, "I'm not even sure what to ask." 

"If your question concerns the reason for my strange and un- Vulcan behaviour, the answer is quite simple. I am conducting an experiment. When I entered Starfleet I had every intention of entering the medical field. However, the more I studied, the more fascinating I began to find the analysis of the human mind and psyche as opposed to the examination of mere bodily facts. 

"No Vulcan had ever even considered training as a Counsellor before; it was assumed that such a thing was impossible. However, I appealed to Starfleet to consider me as a candidate, and they agreed that it might be an interesting experiment. However, I realized that in order to be an effective Counsellor I would have to break down many of the ancient Vulcan repressions and allow myself to feel. 

"The experiment is a dangerous one, for some of those inbred emotional inhibitors are there for a very good reason. As a result I have been seeking to isolate certain...shall we say, 'good' emotions and gradually allow them to be expressed, while continuing to hold back those which could prove destructive. So far--" and she smiled that impossible, charming smile again-- "the experiment has been a success. I am told that I am a very effective Counsellor. I hope you will find me so as I serve here on the _Enterprise_." 

"Quite amazing," murmured Barnabas. 

* * * 

Centurion Salek's speech was much more brief and formal than T'Pryn's, but it was not an unfriendly introduction. In his own unobtrusive way he actually seemed to be excited at the prospect of working on the _Enterprise_. He also, Jack noted, had a kind of clinical, half-appalled fascination with T'Pryn's un-Vulcan behaviour. Perhaps he had begun to realize that if Vulcans could change, then Romulans might do so as well. Even Borg could change, for that matter--Nikctalos was fitting into the crew more successfully than Jack could have believed possible. The officers still had a few ragged edges to be smoothed down, but all in all they showed promise of becoming a very good team. That was heartening. 

The meeting was adjourned at 1700 hours, and the officers returned to their scheduled duties. Centurion Salek left with Lieutenant Mordon to make the rounds, Counsellor T'Pryn went to keep her first appointment, Mac returned to Engineering with Nikctalos to work on the warp drive, James hurried back to his flu specimen, and Jack and Barnabas were left alone. 

"Well," she said. "What did you think of the meeting?" 

"Good." He looked out the window, where the stars streamed past. "But we didn't discuss what we were going to do about Moriarty." 

"No, we didn't. I don't think there's anything to discuss, frankly. I'm going to pay a visit to the holodecks and settle this matter once and for all, and then I'll join you on the bridge." 

Barnabas made a little, startled movement. "You're going to deal with him alone?" 

"I think that might be the only way of finding out what's really on his mind." 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes." 

"Then I won't try to stop you. But be careful." 

"I always am." 

His mouth twitched. "Yeah, well, sometimes being careful isn't good enough. Look at me." 

"Barnabas," said Jack gently, "I think you should go and talk to T'Pryn." 

"Look, I've talked to Counsellors before. It didn't help." 

"I think T'Pryn is different." 

"Different!" He gave a barking laugh. "You're right on that one. So you're trying to say we freaks should stick together?" 

Jack's jaw tightened. "You know me better than that." 

Barnabas remained silent, stubbornly staring out the window. 

"Take the bridge," said Jack. "I'll see you soon." She left the room and headed down the corridor toward the lift. There was no point in arguing with him when he was like this, but there was no need to worry. He'd come around soon enough. 

The question was, would Moriarty? 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack strode into the open Holodeck. The doors hissed shut behind her, leaving her in profound darkness. 

"Moriarty..." she said. "Are you going to humour me, or not?" 

"Humour you?" said a voice in her ear, very close, and she jumped. "What a delightfully humble way to put it." 

"I'm not going to talk to you in the dark." 

"Then," said the clipped British voice, "by all means, let there be light." A spotlight erupted theatrically in the centre of the room at that, and Jack's jaw tightened. 

"I beg your pardon," said Moriarty with what might actually have been genuine penitence, "that was an unfortunate jest." The spotlight flicked off again, and a gentler radiance dawned, revealing a lush riverside glade shadowed by graceful oaks and serenaded by a hundred birds. Beneath the tallest of the ancient trees was a stone bench cracked with age, and upon the bench reclined a laurel-crowned boy in Grecian dress who looked no older than twelve. 

"There," said the youth in a high, guileless voice. "Is that better? My apologies for the ostentatious setting, but I still find myself amused by the possibilities of this holodeck. You must admit that it is a refreshing concept to be able, at a moment's thought, to become whoever one wishes to be." 

"Is this supposed to put me at ease?" asked Jack, staring at the curly-haired child. 

The boy blinked. "Does it?" 

"No." 

"What does?" 

Jack threw up her hands. "You seem to know more about me than I do, Moriarty. You tell me. But once you've made up your mind, stick to it, because I want to have a serious conversation here. I haven't come to bandy literary quotations over tea and crumpets." 

The room went black again almost before she had finished the sentence, and just as suddenly reappeared in a blaze of colour and light. Something knocked her in the back of the knees, and she sat down abruptly on a firm but not uncomfortable sofa. She found herself in a somewhat austerely furnished conference room of the sort she had become accustomed to at the Academy. A bearded, hook- nosed man in black, his thin lips set, sat across from her. 

"There," he said. The voice was not quite that of the Moriarty she had first met, but it had the strong accent and the precision of speech that she had come to expect from the ship's newest and least welcome resident. She eyed the new Moriarty for a moment and decided that he would do. 

"Good," she said. "Now we can get down to business. I have not forgotten your former assurances that you will not harm the _Enterprise_ nor interfere with her operation if we permit you to live. So far you seem to be making good on those promises: we are making good time on our way to Starbase 643, and you have made no attempt to divert us. Still, as I am sure you understand, it is an awkward situation. We have no way to anticipate your ultimate goals, and no reason to be confident that this present good behaviour will endure if by some chance your wishes and those of the crew should come into conflict at a later date." 

"Indeed," said the man in the easy chair. "Power is a tempting thing, I do confess. However, as I stated before, my desire is neither more nor less than yours--the desire for knowledge. I also share the human desire for self-preservation. You fear that my eagerness to explore the universe in which we find ourselves will cause me to disobey your orders at a crucial time. However, I would be loath to do so, as any situation which would place you in jeopardy would very likely place me in equal danger of destruction." 

"Not all threats are technological," said Jack. 

"True. But even a purely biological threat would not induce me to venture on when you commanded that we should turn back." 

"Why not? You wouldn't have anything to fear." 

"Perhaps not. But even if I should escape unharmed, a situation in which I found myself wandering the universe devoid of human companionship or conversation scarcely bears thinking about. My great desire is that we should explore the galaxy together, as a crew, with myself acting as neither more nor less than a member of your crew--albeit a rather vital one. And Jack--" 

She looked up, surprised by the new and pleading note in Moriarty's voice. "Go on," she said. 

"Well, although I can observe you, I cannot read your mind. In the course of our wanderings we must stop at Starbases along the line. If you should in any way be displeased by my conduct, you could easily give the command at such times for the _Enterprise_'s computer core to be formatted and re-booted from the Starbase's computer. I would never be able to prevent you, because I would never know if or when you might be contemplating such action or not. And such a threat would indeed make it worth my while to be on my very best behaviour, don't you think?" 

Jack gave a little, wry smile. "So what you're saying is that even though you've got a phaser to my head, I've got one to yours too. The only question is who's going to fire first." 

Moriarty looked stricken. "Good heavens, what an unpleasant analogy. I am _not_ holding you hostage. If you do not trust me, and if you do not believe my services will be useful to you, then by all means, clear the computer core as soon as we reach Starbase 643. I'm sure--well, fairly sure--that I won't actually feel any pain. Although I must confess that I will be gravely disappointed in you, Jacqueline." 

She almost laughed before she saw the seriousness in the narrow dark eyes. "You really do mean that, don't you?" she asked, astonished. 

Moriarty gazed at her silently. 

Jack folded her arms and spent a moment in thought. Then she raised her head and said, "Mr. Moriarty, you may consider yourself on probation." 

The man broke into an incredulous and rather affecting smile. "Captain! You won't regret this, I assure you. You are, indeed, like your father--not only just, but compassionate." 

"My genes thank you," said Jack dryly. 

* * * 

From: Centurion Salek 

The Centurion had been spending the better part of his time on board going over old _Enterprise_ logs. He figured that this way, he might get an idea of exactly what was expected of him. 

Suddenly, he sat up straight in his cabin, staring at the computer screen. He re-read it, then read it over a third time. This seemed to be the solution to their current dilemma. 

He tapped his new communicator. "Salek to Commander Picard." After a short pause, he heard: "Picard here. Centurion, I'm rather busy at the moment..." 

"Sir, forgive the intrusion, but I think I have found a solution to our...problem." 

Other short pause, then, "I'm in Holodeck Three. Join me." 

"Aye, sir." 

The Holodeck doors opened to admit him, and he stepped through into a comfortable living space. The Commander was there, sitting on a sofa, and a well-dressed man sat across from her. Jack stood upon his entrance, as did the unknown man. 

"Centurion, allow me to present Doctor Moriarty. Doctor, this is my Tactical Officer, Centurion Salek." 

Moriarty extended his hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you." Salek took his hand, rather tentatively. "Well, if you will permit me to call you Salek, you may address me as Moriarty." 

Jack and Moriarty resumed their seats, and Salek sat down himself. "So, Centurion," Jack said. "You said something about a solution?" 

"Hmmm...Oh! Oh, yes, Commander. I was going over some old _Enterprise_ logs, when I came across an old entry for _Enterprise_-D. Shortly after your father assumed command." 

"Proceed," she said. At that, Moriarty laughed out loud. The two officers cast puzzled looks at him, and he controlled himself, allowing only a smile to show. "You really are your father's daughter." 

Jack smiled, finding herself liking this man. She hoped the situation could be resolved without having to "erase" him. 

"Anyway, I came across this log entry. The _Enterprise_ was transporting some diplomats: one group from Antica, the other from Selay. I won't bore you with all the details, but eventually, your father had himself beamed directly into space, in only an energy pattern." 

Jack had a faraway look in her eyes. "Yes, I remember hearing of that. Something about becoming the ultimate explorer..." 

"Well, the then Lt. Commander Data was able to bring him back by beaming Captain Picard's energy pattern back into a former transporter TRACE pattern; essentially, cloning the body and putting the brain inside." 

Moriarty nodded sagely. "Sounds like a Frankenstein complex," he joked. 

"Yes, Centurion. I remember all of this. But how does it help us now?" 

"Well, if I understand your Holodeck technology, anything created in the Holodeck is just essentially an energy pattern. We could have the transporter beam Moriarty into a trace pattern. Then, in Sickbay, we could alter the new person cosmetically to look like...well, like Moriarty." 

Both Jack and Moriarty sat, staring at the Centurion, weighing the possibilities. 

* * * 

From: Acting Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack gazed at the Centurion, who looked back at her with a question in his eyes. It was a question she couldn't answer. She turned to Moriarty. "Is this possible, do you think?" she said. 

A muscle in Moriarty's jaw jumped, and he folded his arms as if to protect himself. "It's--potentially possible, I suppose," he said. "But you have to realize... I've grown." 

"Grown?" asked Salek. 

"I mean that I've become accustomed to cyberspace, the life of the computer core. I've melded with the computer to the extent that it's a part of me. I've gotten used to calculating in trilliseconds formulae that used to take me hours... I mean, they would have if..." He faltered, and Jack stared at him in surprise. 

"If I'd ever been alive," he said. 

"You're going to have to excuse me a moment, Centurion," said Jack. "I'm about to say something you may find bizarre. Moriarty... do you have a soul?" 

Moriarty blinked. "I don't know. I feel alive, but..." His eyes met hers. "You know as well as I that there's no way of telling. That's a Big Question, Jacqueline. Do you have a soul? Can you prove it?" 

"Not scientifically, no. But I believe I do." 

"I feel as though I believe I do, but I'm not even going to touch the theological side of that one. 'God moves in mysterious ways...'" 

"'...His wonders to perform,'" finished Jack. "All right, we'll leave that one. But you know what I was getting at." 

Moriarty nodded. 

Salek cleared his throat. "May I ask, Captain... what _are_ you 'getting at'?" 

"Just that, even if it turned out to be possible to do what you suggest--and I have no qualms about admitting it's a very ingenious idea--neither Moriarty nor I could do it with a clear conscience." 

"And as I was saying before," added Moriarty, "I think I would find having my consciousness condensed into a human brain again rather... confining. I have an uneasy feeling that to try and isolate the 'human' side of my consciousness from the data stream of the main computer might result in disaster. In order to fit into an organic mind, I would lose... a great deal. If you will permit me to be so melodramatic, Centurion, you might as well ask me to cut out my own heart." 

Salek stiffened. "I intended no offense." 

"None taken, Centurion. I am impressed by your quick thinking, in fact. You suggested an option that I, for all my technical knowledge, had not considered. The fact that I feel it necessary to reject that option in no way means that I do not appreciate the brilliance of the suggestion." 

"I couldn't," said Jack, "have put it better myself. Salek, we _will_ continue to consider the idea, and who knows... perhaps at some future time your suggestion may prove invaluable--" 

Her communicator beeped. She touched it on and said, "Picard here." 

Barnabas' voice sounded strange. "Captain, I think you'd better come up to the Bridge immediately." 

"What's the matter, Number One?" 

"We're picking up a vessel at the far end of the scanner range, moving toward us at a steady speed of Warp 8.7. Nikctalos thinks... it might be the Borg." 

A chill rocketed up Jack's spine. "I'll be right up, Number One." She touched her communicator off and stood swiftly. "Centurion Salek, please accompany me to the Bridge. I'll need your skills. Moriarty--" 

"I'll access all available information on the Borg and see what I can do, Captain." His tone was curiously deferential. "If you need me, just call." 

"Believe me, I will. Exit," said Jack. The holodeck doors materialized, hissed open in front of them. "You had better not let me down, Moriarty," she said over her shoulder as she left the room. 

"For all of our sakes," replied Moriarty in a tight voice, "I don't intend to." 

* * *

_Continued in Episode Three: "The Omega Hour" (Part I)_


	3. The Omega Hour (Part I)

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

* * *

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #3: "The Omega Hour" (Part I) 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard...........Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Lt. Commander Barnabas Cole................Warren Postma  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Lt. (JG) Konnu.............................Russ Foubert  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


* * *

From: Lt. (JG) Konnu 

As soon as Jack stepped onto the bridge, people started reporting to her. For once, she noticed, she wasn't reporting something to someone. This Captain business would take some getting used to. 

"Captain, we were just scanned by the Borg. " Barnabas said. "They seem to have taken an interest in us. They've changed to an intercept course, moving at Warp 9.3." 

"Captain Picard," it was Nikctalos's turn to speak, "I think they have found me. I fear I have endangered the ship. I should remove myself from duty." With that the Borg got up and began to move towards the turbolift. 

"Mister D'pyrann," Picard said as she sat down in the Chair, "Do I have to shoot you for desertion?" 

The Borg gave her a puzzled sensor twitch. 

"Sit down, Nikctalos," Picard allowed a small grin to show. "If we're going to get out of this in one piece we'll need your help." 

The Borg sat down at his station and resumed his duties. 

"Mister Salek, go to Red Alert. Raise Shields, but do not arm weapons. I don't want to tick them off... just yet anyway." 

"Red Alert initiated. Shields raised, weapons remain unarmed." reported Salek. 

"Very good." Jack pressed a button on her console. "Mr. Moore?" 

"Aye Captain?" came the reply from Engineering. 

"Is this ship ready for combat?" 

"As good as we'll get Captain... So long as Moriarty doesn't fool around with what he shouldn't." 

"I think we can trust him. After all, the Borg like to assimilate computers as well as people. Picard out." 

"Captain Picard, I am detecting a Klingon K'vort class Battle Cruiser pursuing the Borg ship at warp 6.5. The ship appears damaged." 

"Hmmm, so they ticked off the Klingons. Mr. Slike, maintain heading, warp 5." Nobody else spoke. The confusion and tension on the bridge had died down a little. `Hmmm, I might need another headache injection after this is over.' Jack thought to herself. 

"Captain! " Salek reported, "We are receiving a tight beam communication from the Klingon ship." 

"On screen..." 

The image of the Klingon ship's bridge appeared. 

"I am Krador, Captain of the _Pach'Iw_," stated the Klingon seated in the command chair. The bridge showed signs of battle damage as several duty stations were smouldering. Behind Krador stood a Klingon in a Starfleet uniform at the weapons control station. "We encountered the Borg passing through Klingon and Federation space. We engaged the enemy and sustained some damage as the attempted to cut our ship apart." 

The screen began to de-res and fade the voice began overcome with static. "Thanks to my acting weapons officer, we discovered two things: First, the Borg have never encountered a cloaking ship before- use it to your advantage! Next- The Borg only raise shields when they can visually, or using sensors detect a threat.... You're breaking up.... Remember what I have said _Enterprise_..." 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack's jaw tightened as the image of Krador sputtered into oblivion, and her fine-boned hands clenched at her sides as she fought to control the emotions rising within her. So it was true. The Borg. After all these years... 

"How dare they," she grated. 

Lieutenant Slike looked up at her sharply. "Sir?" 

She shook her head. 

Barnabas moved beside her; she could feel his hand heavy on her shoulder. In a low voice he said, "The last thing we need, Captain, is for this to turn into a personal vendetta." 

"Trust me, Number One," she murmured. "I know." 

"I'm not sure you do, Jack. I know how you must feel, but-" 

She turned to face him, stared straight into his glittering silver eyes with her own steel-blue ones. "I don't think you do, Mr. Cole. It wasn't your father they raped." 

"Rape is a strong word, Captain," said T'Pryn calmly from the door of the turbolift. Jack turned to see her walking, unhurried, down the ramp toward the Counsellor's chair. The Vulcan woman seated herself and gazed up at Jack from beneath elegant, slanted brows. "Is that how you feel about it?" 

"That," said Jack, "was how he felt about it. What would you call that kind of violation? Your body and mind possessed by an overwhelming evil, unable to resist, stripped of all human dignity, becoming a puppet, a pawn--do you have any idea how that would feel?" Her voice lowered, so that only Barnabas and T'Pryn could hear. "He told us once--my mother and I. I cried. She cried. Then he cried. Jean-Luc Picard, weeping like a beaten child. Do you understand me?" 

"Captain," said Nikctalos's metallic voice from above. "Do you wish me to resign my--" 

"No!" Jack whirled on him. "I said it once, Mr. D'Pyrann, and I meant it. I need you here. Don't mistake me. You are not part of the Borg consciousness. You rebelled against them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I will never forget that, and neither will you. Stay as you are, Lieutenant!" 

"The ability to discern friend from foe so precisely suggests an almost Vulcan degree of logic," said T'Pryn. "I believe you will be an adequate Captain, Jacqueline Picard." 

"Thank you," said Jack grimly. "Mr. D'Pyrann, take the Ops console. I want full sensor readings on the Borg ship. Keep me informed of any fluctuations in their electromagnetic field. Mr. Slike, drop to impulse power. Mr. Salek, prepare to engage cloaking device on my signal, half-power only." She sat down in the Captain's chair, her hands gripping the padded arms, shoulders pressing back hard. 

"Half-power only?" asked Barnabas as he sat down beside her. 

Jack permitted herself a small smile. "I want to lead them out into open space as far as possible--we're too close to the Starbase for my liking. So we're going to tease them, Mr. Cole." 

"Receiving subspace communication from the Borg vessel," said Salek sharply. 

"On screen, Mr. Salek." Jack pushed herself up out of the chair and strode toward the main viewer as the image of a vast empty space surrounded by gleaming steel constructs appeared. A voice spoke, a voice like a hundred thousand dead men inexplicably telling tales: "Federation ship _Enterprise_ NCC-1701-F. Captain Gabriele Lester." 

"Your information's out of date," said Jack crisply. "I am Captain Jacqueline Picard. What do you want?" 

"We have come to reclaim what is ours," said the Borg. 

"Captain," said Barnabas urgently. She held up a hand for silence. 

"And what would that be?" she said. 

"The unit number 889 349 246 345 001 is of Borg. You have severed it from us. We require it." 

Nikctalos stiffened. "No," he said in a flat voice. 

"Peace, Mr. D'Pyrann," said Jack. Turning back to the viewer she said, "That unit is no longer in service to the Borg consciousness. It is independent. It has chosen to be free." 

"Independence is irrelevant. Choice is irrelevant. Freedom is irrelevant. The unit will be returned." 

"Captain!" barked Salek, as a Borg materialized behind him. He vaulted the Technical console with surprising skill, drew his phaser, and fired. The Borg crumpled and disappeared. 

"For a continually developing civilization," said Jack dryly to the Borg on-screen, "you don't learn very quickly, do you? A valiant effort, I must say. But let me tell you this right now; if you want Nikctalos D'Pyrann, you're going to have to find him first." She watched out of the corner of her eye as Salek hurried back to his Tactical console. "Now," she said quietly, and with one flick of Salek's hand the conversation was terminated, and the _Enterprise_ became a ghost. 

"Mr. D'Pyrann. How well will their sensors detect us?" 

Nikctalos's hands were flying over the Ops console. "I am programming a staccato high-frequency pattern which will hinder their sensor readings. They will be able to maintain pursuit, but 88.501% of their systems will be directed toward locating us." 

"Good. Let's not make it any easier for them. Helmsman, execute Bowman-4 sequence." She moved back to the chair and sat down. "I hope everybody ate a light lunch," she said, "because we're going on a roller coaster ride." 

"Captain, if we are moving under impulse power they will be able to detect us. May I suggest we go to maximum cloaking?" said Salek. 

Jack shook her head. "We can't maintain a full cloak for longer than 10.5 minutes with our current field technology. Half- cloak will have to do." She tapped her communicator. "Mr. Moore, how long can you maintain current power levels to the cloaking device?" 

"With shields at maximum, I'd give you twenty minutes," came the reply. "I'm trying to re-route power from the secondary life support systems to buy us a little more time, but I can tell you right now you can get twice as much mileage with the shields down." 

"Mr. D'Pyrann, will they be likely to fire?" asked Jack. 

Nikctalos hesitated. "I cannot give you an accurate answer without accessing the Borglink, and if I access the Borglink they will locate me. They may possess me. They are trying to possess me now." 

"Then give us a guess, Mr. D'Pyrann!" said Barnabas. 

T'Pryn got up from her chair and moved to Nikctalos. He flinched as her palms touched his temples. "Be still," she said. "I will not harm you." She closed her eyes. Nikctalos's hands hovered over the console a moment, then resumed programming at double speed. 

"They will not fire," he said. "The risk of destroying the unit they came to seek would be too great. You may lower your shields." 

"Mr. Salek," said Barnabas with a nod, and the Romulan officer powered down the shields. 

"What are you doing, Counsellor?" asked Jack, watching the slender Vulcan woman standing behind the Borg. 

"I am using my limited telepathic skills to shield him from the Borg assault," she said in a distant voice. "They are powerful. They batter at his mind." 

Barnabas glanced at Jack. She nodded, and he touched his badge. "Dr. N'Dok, report to the bridge." 

"On my way," said James. 

"What is your intent?" asked T'Pryn and Nikctalos at the same time, in almost the same voice. Jack found it more than a little unnerving. 

"James may be able to ease the stress a little," she said. "He's been studying the neural couplings that make up the Borglink to your mind. We're aware that if we were to sever them you would cease to exist, but we may be able, with your help, to disrupt some of the non-essential functions of the link and weaken their assault. Are you agreed?" 

"It can be done," said Nikctalos. "Yes. I am agreed." 

"It must be done soon," said T'Pryn. "They are relying on their link with him to continue pursuit of this vessel. That is how they found us." 

"I should not be here," said Nikctalos. "I endanger the ship." 

"It's too late for that now, Mr. D'Pyrann," said Jack. "Just hang on. Everything's going to be all right." 

And for a moment, she almost believed it... 

* * * 

From: Lt. (JG) Konnu 

Meanwhile on the bridge of the _Pach'Iw_... 

"Brother," Lt. Konnu reported from the tactical station, "We are closing with the Borg vessel." 

"Good." Captain Krador's chair swivels around to face his younger brother. Their father Kurn had always told them that it was their place to serve the Empire, that they had no business being on or even near a Federation Starship. But that time when they were 13 and 10, when their uncle had come to visit, had changed not only their minds but the stubborn will of their father Kurn. Worf had shown them all that honour could be obtained under any banner that you could follow, all that mattered was that you, the warrior were true and loyal to your fellow warriors. Krador saw the man which was their uncle in the man that stood at the tactical station. He secretly wanted to tell Konnu that he approved of his decision to join Starfleet, but that would have to wait for now. Kurn waited too long and took his approval for his youngest son to the grave with him. 

"What is the _Enterprise_ doing?" Krador asks. 

"Hmmm... It appears that they are leading the Borg away from the vicinity of their starbase. The Borg are either unaware of our presence, or, they are choosing to ignore us. We will be within firing range in-- wait..." 

"What is it Konnu?" 

"The Borg ship is no longer maintaining its electromagnetic field!" Konnu grins, "We could beam over and implement our other... option." 

"Yes, take twelve warriors and as many detonite bombs as you can, and hurry, the Borg will find the _Enterprise_ soon." 

"Permission to take a local transporter pattern enhancer." 

"What for?" Krador was beginning to grow impatient. 

"We can set it up around our explosives, it will ensure that the Borg do not try to remove our bombs." 

"Very good. Now go!" With that Konnu turned and left for the transporter room. 

* * * 

The transporter beam dissipated with a faint humming noise, leaving its `cargo' standing in a corridor in the Borg ship. The 12 warriors automatically drew their disruptors, and anxiously picked up their satchels full of explosives. Konnu activated his tricorder and began scanning the ship. He would scan as much of the ship as possible, in order to increase the Federation's and the Empire's knowledge of these... beings. Konnu walked a few steps forward and stood in front of a motionless Borg soldier who was standing in some form of link up booth to the Borg uni-mind. 

"Interesting." Konnu said to no one in particular. 

"They do not defend their ship!" said one warrior, G'arech. "They are fools!" 

"These are the ones who destroyed 40 Federation ships, with only one of their ships. We may be the fools." Konnu replied. A sudden beep from his tricorder drew his attention. 

"These conduits, that run along the ceiling," Konnu said to the warriors, "carry power supplies throughout the ship. I think they meet in some sort of mainline junction, 50 millicams from here. Follow me!" With that Konnu shouldered the transporter field enhancer and led the Warriors down the hall. 

* * * 

Meanwhile, several decks above the Klingon boarding party, Borg number 543,394,452,982,023 stood in front of a large abyss in the center of the ship. Across the width and length of this abyss stretched two tactical displays. The largest display was a representation of the space directly ahead of the Borg ship. There was a slight distortion in space several centons in front of the ship, but before the distortion could be analyzed and found to be the _Enterprise_, NCC-1701-F, the faint shimmering had disappeared. The other display screen showed several theoretical suppositions in computation. These suppositions contained ideas about what the _Enterprise_ was doing. Borg number 543,394,452,982,023 concentrated on this screen. 

The Borg's best guess right now was that the _Enterprise_ might be using a device which alters the path of light around their ship, thus rendering them undetectable. Unknown: how long this effect might last. Unknown: power required for this irrelevant tactic. Known: The _Enterprise_ has maintained the effect for 13.34567245656 cyclons. Known: Method of propulsion - Primitive fusion powered impulse drives. Known: Such drives leave residual ion trails. Action: Scan for such ion trails. It would not be long now. 

Suddenly, a smaller screen superimposed itself on the other two. It displayed power conduit 2, level 276. Thirteen Klingon beings were affixing unknown devices to the conduit. Probable purpose: demolitions. Power conduit's destination: Sub-light drive and shields. Priority: Raise electromagnetic field, capture intruders, dispose of alien devices. 

"Hurry! They must have noticed us by now!" Konnu shouts to the warriors, as he sets up the third and final transporter pattern enhancer. A warrior approaches him, holding a Klingon communicator. 

"It is the _Pach'Iw_!" the warrior grunts as he hands the communicator to Konnu. 

"This is Konnu. Go ahead _Pach'Iw_." 

"Konnu! They have raised their electromagnetic field!" Krador shouted over the static filled communicator. 

"Then we are trapped!" 

"No! Stand inside the pattern enhancer's perimeter! We can beam you back, but we can only take six at a time!" 

"Very well. The explosives are in place. Beam me back last. Konnu out." Konnu hands the communicator back to the warrior and together they rejoin the other warriors. 

"Look! Borg soldiers!" a warrior cries out. The Borg were calmly walking towards the loaded conduit and the boarding party from four separate directions. The warriors began firing and succeeded in cutting down the first wave of Borg. Suddenly the area was filled with the familiar light of transporter beams. Six warriors were gone. 

"Use your concussion grenades!" A warrior shouted over the disruptor fire as the second wave of Borg began arriving. 

"NO! You fools! We can't use grenades so close to the bombs!" Konnu shouted out. 

"Our disruptors are not effective any more!" warrior G'arech blared, "Long live the empire!" With that G'arech drew his combat blade and charged the nearest Borg soldier. The other warriors followed suit, and dropping their disruptors flew into the Borg assault with their blades flashing. 

The transporter beam found Konnu, and tried unsuccessfully to bring him back to the _Pach'Iw_. For a moment, he fleetingly saw the transporter room, but it soon faded away leaving Konnu back on the Borg ship. He quickly realised that the Borg's shields and E.M. jamming were preventing the ship from locking onto him or any of the other warriors. He also realised that the _Pach'Iw_ would take the remaining landing party for dead and that it would soon attack. 

He picked up the remote detonator and set it for one minute. Konnu threw the detonator to the floor and smashed it with his heel. He aimed his disruptor at the floor of the deck and fired, ripping a hole in it. He looked again at his comrades fighting the Borg. All he saw was a mass of Borg swarming the Klingons. He could hear their screams as they were captured. He jumped through the hole in the deck, escape was the only thing on his mind. 

Konnu grunted with pain as he landed on the deck below. A sharp piece of metal had slashed the back of his shoulder. The back of his yellow-black uniform was already soaked with purple-red blood. He tried to ignore the pain and began to run through the corridors as fast as he could. Only 30 seconds remained before the explosives went off. They would detonate even sooner if the Borg tampered with them. Konnu ran faster. He had only one hope for survival. As soon as the bombs exploded, if enough damage had been done, the Borg's E.M. field might go down, if it did, the _Enterprise_ could beam him aboard. He tapped the Starfleet communicator on his chest. 

"_Enterprise_! Come in!" 

"_Enterprise_ here. Identify yourself!" a female voice demanded. Konnu was about to reply, rather harshly, but a nearby explosion sent him tumbling to the floor. Borg Soldiers were behind him, firing bolts of energy at the fleeing Klingon. Konnu picked himself up, and retrieved his tricorder which had fallen. He fired his disruptor at the floor in front of the advancing Borg soldiers. he had hit some sort of gas conduit. The Borg were enveloped by a blue vapour. Only twenty seconds remained. "_Enterprise_?! Request emergency transport!" Konnu shouted. There was a reply, but it was drowned out by more near misses from the borg soldiers. Konnu was tiring at this point, but he kept running. Suddenly a voice boomed throughout the Borg ship: 

"Escape is irrelevant. Your actions are irrelevant. Disarm your explosives and prepare to be assimilated." 

"I would die first!" Konnu gasped in reply. The Borg must be bluffing... those explosives could not be removed, could not be beamed off the ship... the tricorder indicated that power going through that main junction could not be re-routed anywhere in less than half an hour... 5 seconds. 

The pursuing Borg were still firing. 

4 seconds. 

Konnu stumbled and almost fell. 

3 seconds. 

A Borg beam hit Konnu in the leg. He fell to the ground. His leg was numb... some sort of stun beam... 

2 seconds. 

The Borg soldiers stood over him. Konnu aimed his disruptor at his own head, but one of the soldiers knocked it out of his hands. 

1 second. 

"Death is irrelevant." The Borg voice said. The soldiers bent over to take Konnu. 

Detonation. 

A massive explosion rocked the ship... the lights faded in the ship... the Borg soldiers were knocked down to the floor. Konnu could hear the sound of the ships atmosphere escaping into space. He struggled to a post that looked fixed and held on as tight as he could. The Klingon looked behind him and saw that 200 meters away existed the vastness of space. Suddenly the Borg were blown into space. Konnu could feel an enormous pressure inside his lungs. He also felt something holding onto his bad leg. He looked and saw a Borg soldier holding onto his leg, trying to avoid being blown out of the ship. 

`I have had enough of you!' Konnu thought to himself, as he kicked the Borg in the face. Blood splashed all over the Borg's agonized face, his grip lessened and he flew towards space. Konnu couldn't believe what he saw... a Borg had displayed emotion! Konnu's thoughts were brought back to his present predicament as he felt his own grip loosen... Consciousness was also a problem as it began to leave the Klingon..... `_Enterprise_...' he thought just before he blacked out. 

* * *

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

"I am picking up unusual life readings on the Borg ship," said Nikctalos suddenly. "They appear to be Klingon." 

"The _Pach'Iw_," said Barnabas. Jack nodded. "What are they doing, Lieutenant?" 

"They are spreading out. They carry detonite devices." 

"Time-bombs?" asked Jack. 

Barnabas looked grim. "Maybe, but they'll have to die defending them. The Borg are fast. The most a Klingon away team could hope to do would be to make a stand with randomized phasers and hold the Borg off until just before the bombs explode. Unless they've got a transporter chief with split-second reflexes, they're doomed." 

"Never underestimate the durability of Klingons," said Jack. "I learned that on an exchange program once." Her hand slid automatically to the long scar on her neck. Barnabas looked at her curiously, but said nothing. 

"Captain," said Nikctalos in a dead voice, "the bombs are detonating--aaaah!" He convulsed and fell out of his chair, twitching. 

Jack whirled and saw James standing in the turbolift door. "Doctor!" she snapped. "Get this man down to sickbay! Do whatever it takes to keep him alive!" 

"I will go with him," said T'Pryn. She and James hefted Nikctalos to his feet and half-carried, half-dragged him back to the turbolift. Barnabas glanced at Jack and slid behind the Ops console, his gleaming fingers flying over the touchpad. "Half the Klingons are gone," he said. "Vaporized or transported, I don't know. The Borg ship has suffered extensive damage to the core area, but it's still functional. It's regenerating--" 

"Captain!" said Salek urgently. 

"What is it?" 

"Receiving Starfleet communicator signal from on board the Borg ship." 

"Open frequency." 

"_Enterprise_! Come in!" panted a deep, guttural voice. 

"_Enterprise_ here," said Jack. "Identify yourself." 

"Identify--" An explosive sound, and the signal was cut off. 

Jack tapped her badge. "Transporter Room Two, lock onto the com-badge on the Borg ship and prepare to transport." 

"Aye, sir." 

"Who could it possibly be?" demanded Barnabas. "We don't have any people over there--" 

"I don't know," said Jack. "But if we can get a fix--" 

"_Enterprise_!" growled the voice. "Request emergency transport!" 

"Ensign!" snapped Jack. "What are you waiting for? Beam that man up!" 

"Trying, sir--the signal's weak--I'm losing him! We're getting interference from the cloaking device!" 

"The last bomb has detonated," said Barnabas. "The Borg's electromagnetic shields are back down." 

"Drop cloak, Mr. Salek!" commanded Jack. "Ensign? Did you get a fix on that man?" 

"Got him! Beaming straight to sickbay." 

"Good," said Jack. 

"Enemy vessel appears incapacitated," said Maverint Slike from the helm. 

Jack turned back toward the main viewer. The Borg ship, once so sleek and formidable, was now charred and pitted with the force of the explosions that had rent it from within. Yet she could see it regenerating even as she watched. 

"Detonite bombs," said Barnabas wonderingly. "Why didn't your father's crew think of that?" 

"They probably would have if they hadn't been afraid of killing my father," said Jack. "They'd have lost a good many crewmen on the Borg ship, too. It takes a Klingon to think of a plan like that, and have the guts to carry it out." She turned to Salek. "Raise shields and launch a full spread of photon torpedoes at the Borg ship on my command." 

Salek nodded. "Torpedoes armed and ready." 

"Fire!" said Jack. 

The Borg ship, fifty times larger than the _Enterprise_, gave not a quiver as the torpedoes detonated against its metal hull. 

"Klingon ship de-cloaking to starboard," said Maverint. "Firing phasers at the Borg." 

The phasers tore long strips off the face of the Borg ship, but there was no response. "Why don't they go?" asked Barnabas. "They've got to know by now that we're not going to give Nikctalos to them." 

"They can't go," said Jack softly. "They don't have what they want. Defeat is irrelevant to the Borg. They acknowledge only victory, or death." 

"Then how do we persuade them to leave?" asked Salek. 

"I don't know," said Barnabas. "But the longer we sit here in stalemate, the more time they've got to recover. I estimate twenty-five minutes before they've regenerated enough to strike back. What do you suggest, Captain?" 

"Prayer," said Jack grimly. 

* * *

From: Counsellor T'Pryn 

T'Pryn, her hands cupped around Nikctalos' metal-encased head, watched silently as Dr. N'Dok, his boyish face grave, ran his medical tricorder over the Borg. 

"Physically he's in perfect condition--for what he is," said James. "But this Borglink is shutting down his neural networks." 

"He's having to shut them down himself," said T'Pryn quietly. "In order to keep them out, he must retreat further into himself. But he cannot keep from feeling the shared pain of the Borg as they suffer and die. That, too, is causing his distress." 

"We've got to find some way to cut him off from the Borg, or disrupt the signal, or--" 

"They communicate via subspace frequencies, correct?" 

"As nearly as we can figure, yes. I could put him in an iso- chamber, shut them out completely. But that would kill him unless his cybernetic components were removed. I've got no right to do that without his consent." 

"It is not logical--" began T'Pryn, but stopped as a familiar shimmering of light caught her eye. "They have beamed someone down," she said. 

At that same moment Jack's voice echoed in the room: "Picard to N'Dok. We've got a wounded Starfleet officer for you. We picked him off the Borg ship." 

"Got him," said James. "Kate! We've got a Klingon in trouble here!" 

"Aye, sir," said Katherine Tanthis, her pretty face lined with concern. She quickly left the computer screen she'd been consulting and hurried over to tend the Klingon's numerous wounds. 

"Now," James said, turning his attention back to Nikctalos. "Lieutenant, can you hear me?" 

"Af...fir...ma...tive," said the Borg faintly. 

"We need to get you separated from the Borglink. Not entirely, just enough to get you functioning again. Counsellor T'Pryn is going to help me, but I'll need your help too in rerouting some of the neural pathways. You've got to tell me what's safe and what's not." 

"Under...stood." 

James glanced up at T'Pryn. She nodded gravely. James took a neural probe and, with one eye on the scanner, carefully began to unlock the secrets of Nikctalos's tortured mind. T'Pryn closed her eyes and went deeper. 

She was not a telepath in the sense that a full-fledged Betazoid would be, but like all Vulcans she had the ability to meld her mind with that of another on any one of several levels, to lend her mental strength to those who needed it. She did that for Nikctalos now. She did not pry into his thoughts, but she wrapped her mental discipline around his consciousness, sheltering him from the onslaught of the Borglink. She could feel the Borg battering at her shields, cold and relentless. But they could not command her, and she did not fear them. She gave Nikctalos the things he would understand: _What is the square root of 5089? If n=4 and y=6.5, what is the value of z in the equation 6z X 42^y = 8n?_ Anything to keep him from thinking about the Borg. 

"I've found what looks like a subspace frequency receiver in the left hemisphere," murmured James. "I'm injecting 0.0005 milligrams of betaparazine--now. Nikctalos?" 

"I am... well," came the reply. "Proceed." 

James was sweating. T'Pryn without a second thought took up the hem of her long blue skirt and drew it across his brow. He gave her a startled, grateful look and continued his probing. 

"I am on board the _Enterprise_," came the Klingon's voice from the other side of the room. "My thanks, Doctor." 

T'Pryn lifted her head a moment to see the Klingon, now fully conscious, swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of the table. Dr. Tanthis was still running a dermasealer over his more serious wounds, but he seemed strong and alert, unconcerned by his narrow brush with death. "I am Lieutenant Konnu," he said. "I was scheduled to rendezvous with the _Enterprise_ at Starbase 643. It would seem I have arrived a little earlier than planned." 

"Ah, well," said James without lifting his head, "What's a couple of days? Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. What's your specialty?" 

"I am experienced in tactical and security duties." 

James's eyebrows shot skyward. T'Pryn contemplated this display with grave incomprehension until the Chief Medical Officer leaned closer and said in a low voice, "Salek is gonna love this." 

Sarcasm was not a Vulcan trait, but T'Pryn was familiar with the concept. 

* * *

From: Moriarty 

Moriarty soaked up all the incoming data on the Borg ship, turned it over and over in his mind, cross-checked it against the ship's conventional weaponry, theoretically improvised new weaponry, plotted evasive manoeuvres, everything his computer- enhanced genius could come up with. But in the end he came up frustrated. It wasn't the ideas that were the problem: he had thousands. But all of them seemed to require items that for one reason or another just weren't available--or at least couldn't be available in time to be any use at all. 

Until he remembered the invaluable little creatures Dr. N'Dok had corralled in a disused corner of the medical computer's memory. Dormant now, but it would take so very little to wake them up, and when they woke they would breed like wildfire... 

He directed his thoughts to the bridge, and was there in a millisecond. That attractive Picard woman was sitting in the Captain's chair, looking bleak. He was secretly delighted; the more discouraged she was right now, the more grateful she would be for his assistance. 

"Captain," he said politely. "May I consult with you and Mr. Cole in your Ready Room? I have a suggestion." 

"Nanites," said Barnabas incredulously. "And they agreed to cooperate--but do you think they'll spread fast enough to make a difference?" 

"They will, indeed," replied Moriarty. "Stimulated with a low-intensity photon beam, they will replicate themselves twice a second. At that rate they will have penetrated into the entirety of the Borg's primary systems within 15.81 minutes." 

"How do you intend to introduce the Nanites to the Borg ship?" asked Jack. 

"We couldn't possibly launch a bomb or even a probe to take them over there," Barnabas mused. "The detonation would destroy them. We'd need an away team to release the Nanites directly into the Borg's computer system." 

"Indeed," said Moriarty. "And the Borg will soon have restored enough power to regenerate their electromagnetic shield, so you must act as soon as possible." 

Barnabas looked at Jack. 

"Make it so, Number One," she said. 

Barnabas gave a short nod and left the Ready Room. Before the door closed his voice could be heard saying, "Salek, Mordon, Amburil, you're with me." 

"I hope you're right on this one, Moriarty," said Jack to the face on her computer screen. 

"Trust me," said Moriarty, and disappeared with a flourish that was pure satisfaction. The Nanites, invaluable little microscopic robots that they were, wouldn't actually destroy the Borg's ship, but they would paralyse it quite effectively. They would even infect the biocircuitry of the Borg themselves. If only Commander Cole and the others could get over there in time... 

* * *

_Continued in Episode Four: "The Omega Hour" (Part II)_


	4. The Omega Hour (Part II)

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

* * *

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #4: "The Omega Hour" (Part II) 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard...........Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Lt. Commander Barnabas Cole................Warren Postma  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Lt. (JG) Konnu.............................Russ Foubert  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


* * *

From: Cmdr. Barnabas Cole 

Salek, Mordon, Amburil and Commander Cole walked quickly towards the transporter room. 

"We have little time," breathed Barnabas, "but it will have to do". 

An ensign ran up behind them, with four hand-held consoles. "Sir," she said, "we have prepared your computers for you. Each one has a resident copy of the Nanite distributor. We cannot tell how long it will take for each Nanite cell to make a successful infection, nor can we ensure that the Borg will be unable to combat this security breach." She handed one hand-held to each member of the away team. 

"Thank you, Ensign T'Keyn. Dismissed." 

"Good luck, Sir." she added, and she was gone. 

They reached the transporter pads and stepped up. A hint of sadness entered Barnabas' voice as he spoke. 

"Anyone who does not wish to come on this sortie may be excused without any further consideration," he said, "and there are significant risks to be taken before we return to the _Enterprise_." 

He looked around to Salek, standing at attention on the transport pad. He did not flinch. Mordon stood behind him. Mordon shifted his feet and then opened his mouth. 

"Permission to speak frankly, Sir?" he asked. 

"Granted." Barnabas turned around to face him. 

"Sir, if you had not chosen me, I would have volunteered. I did not join Starfleet to just walk around the decks of a Starship, sir, I wish to be of service to Starfleet." 

"I will note that in my report, Mordon." Barnabas almost smiled. Mordon snapped back to attention, and Barnabas turned back around to face the transporter technician. He stood motionless for a second, waiting, and then nodded to the technician. 

"Very well then, energize." 

The technician had been given randomized parameters, so that they might potentially land on any of the upper decks of the vast Borg cube. The _Enterprise_ flickered out of sight and just as quickly the away-team found themselves surrounded by the dull metallic webwork of walls around them in the Borg ship. 

"Location please, Amburil." Barnabas asked, as he went down on one knee and started typing on the screen of his console. 

"Sir, we seem to be on the 137th level, in the top left corner of the Borg cube." She paused. "Relative to the position of the _Enterprise_, that is." Barnabas watched as fear and excitement danced in the back of her eyes. 

The away team glanced up and down the long corridors. Amburil's eyes settled on the nearest Borg unit and as she surveyed its greying flesh and the apparent rigor mortis around its sallow cheeks and blackened eyes she shuddered slightly, and then pulled her eyes away. 

Barnabas drew himself up from the floor where he had been unpacking the computer equipment and looked at her, and at Mordon who was slowly mastering himself as his facial expression fought between fear and confidence. The fear heightened their senses and their eyes often jerked suddenly to the ends of the corridors as the massive ship hummed and pulsed around them with a sort of syncopated heartbeat. 

Barnabas spoke. 

"It is not a pretty sight, is it? That one that Amburil was looking at seems to be of Terran origin, possibly even an addition from Earth during the Borg's voyages. We must, however, get down to this fast so don't worry about him, or any of the others." 

Salek began to speak. "Until we become a priority problem, our presence will remain irrelevant to them. This is no compliment to us, of course, but we will be free to do our work without any interference from them. At least for a while. It is safe to assume that the Borg have no agitated state. They are much like the old Terran 'binary computers'; One or Zero, On or Off, relevant or irrelevant. However if we are successful, we will soon become a threat to them. Caution is advised." 

Barnabas nodded. "We will have to split up four ways. If we only give the Borglink one infection of Nanites to deal with, it is possible they could decrypt the Nanite microcode and block their activity. I have just patched the generator code for each of our consoles to use a different algorithm. Mordon, your Nanites have been encoded using the Enigma device. Salek, your Nanites have been encoded with a variant of the Level Two Starfleet Encryption Standard. Ensign Amburil, you have a little number that Ensign T'Keyn has developed herself. Encryption is her hobby, it seems. My own console has been impregnated with a live version of the Romulan Cyberspace Worm carrying Nanites as a child process." 

Salek looked up at Barnabas, his eyes flashed with great interest and slight apprehension. Commander Cole guessed what he was thinking and nodded his head. 

"Yes, the very same Worm that was unleashed by a certain young Romulan who will forever remain nameless." 

Salek looked back down at his feet again. "Sir, will they not be able to decode these? Stopping the Nanites once the encryption is gone would be possible even for the technicians on the _Enterprise_. The distributed computing power of Borg makes the _Enterprise_'s ship's computer look like an abacus." He was plainly uncomfortable. 

"Hopefully they will not have time. Once each of us has made the initial infection..." Barnabas paused, as his silvery complexion pulled itself into a brief moment of consideration. "No, I do not believe they will. The Nazis never did crack the Enigma." 

Something clicked inside Amburil's head, and she nearly fell over. She began to speak. "Sir, the Nazis did not crack the Enigma, but they did capture those who did know how to decipher the Enigma. The Borg may try to capture information about our cryptography from our computers, from the _Pach'Iw_, or even from another Starfleet ship if one comes into range."

Barnabas frowned suddenly, and tapped his communicator. "Barnabas to the Bridge, Come in Jack." His voice was agitated. 

The crackle subsided as the communicators moved away from the channels that were blocked on the lower decks of the Borg cube. 

"Jack here, Barnabas you should have maintained silence... What's wrong?" Jack's voice betrayed concern, however it was still as even and composed as ever. Barnabas dropped his shoulders and let out a deep breath. 

"Jack, I'm worried. They may try to access the _Enterprise_'s computer, and gain information about the encryption algorithms we've used here. Perhaps we can keep them out... But if we do they may find another source around, perhaps the _Pach'Iw_, or another hapless ship in range for computer link. If they decrypt the Nanite code they will be able to stop them. My plan was to give them four kinds of Nanites to stop instead of one. Even that may not be enough." 

The comm link crackled again. Jack rose to her feet. The comm link was broken. The Borg's electromagnetic shielding was cutting off the communicators. She closed her eyes and put her hands out over the console in front of her. The comm link did not reopen. The bridge crew watched her silently. Her mouth tensed and then her face relaxed again. Perhaps she was praying. 

* * * 

Barnabas tapped his communicator again. It came to life and then shut off again. His chiselled features took on a harder look than any of the away team had yet seen on him. He flipped down the lid of his console and put the unit under his arm. "Mordon, find the nearest gangway and climb down as many levels as possible. I will be following you and I will climb up as many levels as I can muster. Amburil, you will run down that gangway. You should be able to get at least one-third of the way down that corridor. Salek, you are no doubt the most fit person among us. I am counting on you to get as far as you can. 

"In exactly five minutes you will all stop where you are and energize the photon induction beam. Affix your unit on the wall of the ship, pointing the beam into the conduit. The carrier signal for the Nanite programs will hopefully appear to the Borg to be part of their own communications. We cannot tell how long each of our units will take to infect the Borg's systems or if it will work at all. We will not meet again here. If the Borg systems are paralysed then they will most likely be unable to prevent us from being beamed back." 

"What about resistance?" asked Amburil. 

Salek pulled his phaser out of his belt and showed it to them. "The phasers should be set on the lowest of the Kill settings. That should be enough to disable one or two of the Borg before they can shield themselves from it. After they have learned about us, we should be able to kill one or two more with the phasers on their highest setting. If in grave need, set your phaser on overload. The blast should be enough of a signal to the _Enterprise_ to get them to beam us back, in the event that our communications do not return. It may be that our communicators will function on the higher levels as well. The Borg seem to take a compartmental view of security." 

"Enough for now. Five minutes, and God speed you." Barnabas wheeled around and tapped Mordon on the shoulder. "Let's go." 

Amburil ran down the corridor, keeping to the left side and crossing the intersections with as much care and stealth as was possible. She stopped and listened after what seemed like several minutes of silent running. Her watch indicated that only two minutes had elapsed. She could not be certain where she was, because all of the corridors appeared the same. She turned to go down one of the corridors to her left, and her heart stopped. 

She looked in and saw a low table. A wounded Klingon was surrounded by four Borg units. Over the table was a high intensity light that was shining straight down onto the table, as if it were a focused spotlight piercing fog. She pulled her phaser and fired at each of the Borg units. Three fell immediately, disabled but still writhing, and the last one standing blocked her shot and turned around to face her. 

"Resistance is Irrelevant. Drop your weapon." it intoned. She flipped the phaser on to its highest power level and shifted frequency bands. She fired twice at the Borg's head. A sickening smell surrounded her, and the charred headless body of the Borg fell. It did not move again. 

Running to the side of the Klingon she found him unconscious. It occurred to her that she had never heard of Klingons going unconscious before, but perhaps it was possible. His forehead was burnt open by a low level Laser burn, and he was bruised from the scuffle. His left leg was cold, but otherwise he seemed intact. His phaser, uniform, and ceremonial sword were lying in an open drawer on the far wall of the chamber. 

Already her pricked ears picked up the faint rhythmical marching of more Borg on the way to replace the ones she had killed. She shook the Klingon's shoulders but he did not yet stir. Her watch bleeped, and she looked down at it. Four minutes up. She had not gotten far. It would have to be enough though. 

"T'Keyn, I hope you're as brilliant as Number One thinks you are," she breathed. She stood up on the table where the fallen Klingon lay and reached above the lighted hood that illuminated him. She hid the unit behind a mass of wiring and flipped the power switch. A faint hum rose out of audible range, and the beam turned on, evidenced only by a tiny dot on the surface of the energy conduit that ran along the ceiling. She smiled to herself and began to step back down. 

A strong arm grasped her around the waist and lifted her down. Caught. She tried to twist in her captor's iron grip but was unable. Looking down she saw the dark brown skin of a Klingon warrior. It was not the Borg. She was safe, then, perhaps. 

The Klingon spoke. "Your coming was fortunate. It would have been better to die than to suffer the dishonour of becoming one of them. Yet, I find I owe my gratitude to a woman. You have killed four of them here, I see. And the one in the corner will surely trouble no-one again. There must be some Klingon blood in you!" He laughed in the bellowing way of the Klingons and released her. He sank back down onto the table. Amburil noticed he was wincing with pain, and that the leg that had been cold was still limp and lifeless. She got him his uniform, phaser, and other effects and smiled. 

"No Klingon blood, but my Grandmother used to say that our family descended from a long line of Royalty." 

"Then surely it is so. You fight with great courage. I thank you." He was already dressed again, and he put his klingon blade back into its sheath. 

"Can you walk?" she asked. 

"We shall see." He said, standing. He wobbled and then stood, and then limped to the doorway. Even limping he carried himself with dignity. 

"We will go now." he said. 

"We have been cut off from the _Enterprise_, my communicator is dead. We cannot be beamed back to the _Enterprise_." she explained. 

"Perhaps my communicator will function, even so." He spoke into his wrist in harsh Klingon syllables. "Two to beam up, I believe you would put it," he said to Amburil, "You will come back to the Bird of Prey then, with me." 

She hesitated and then agreed. Their plan was cut short by the whirring and clicking of approaching Borg. "I must restore my honour" he said to her swiftly, and went into the corridor. 

He returned and wiped his blade. "There was only one," he said. He tapped his wrist again and speaking two syllables that she did not understand the Borg ship faded out of her sight and she found herself in the dark interior of a Klingon Bird of Prey. 

* * * 

From: Lt. (JG) Konnu 

Konnu rubbed the freshly sealed wound on his shoulder. He looked at Kate Tanthis. 

"Thank you. You are familiar with Klingon medicine?" he asked. 

"Why, Konnu you don't remember... I fused a broken arm of yours only two years ago." 

"The... Salk? Yes. I remember now. Are you still...tlhogh... married to him?" 

"Of course. Not even the Borg could tear us apart." Kate smiled as she offered a slightly battered tricorder to Konnu. "This was tucked under your tunic." 

"Yes. It has important information on the Borg. I hope." Konnu got off of the bed and looked into the adjacent area of the sickbay. A Borg soldier was being treated by a doctor and a vulcan. Konnu had heard that a Borg would be present on the _Enterprise_. 

"Lt. D'pyrann is having a tough time of it. The Borg are really lashing into him." Kate said. Her concern was evident in the tone of her voice. 

"He bears his pain well." Konnu put his torn and bloodied tunic back on and made for the exit. 

"Konnu, don't you want a new uniform?" Kate asked, fearing what the Captain might say. 

"I do not have time to change clothes, I am needed in battle. Thank you once again." With that Konnu walked out of the door and into the hall. He spent several minutes wandering the halls, looking for the turbolift. 

"jiHtaHbogh naDev viSovbe'... (I'm lost)" Konnu muttered to himself. Suddenly, a panel in the wall beside him began to speak in Klingon. "/* Do you require assistance?*/" asked the computer in a masculine voice with some strange sort of human accent. 

"English will do." 

"As you wish. Are you looking for the turbolift my fine Klingon gentleman?" 

"I am not a gentle-man!" Konnu started to get upset. "Just direct me to the bridge." 

"No need for anger, but I suppose that is easier for some..." The voice paused for a second. " Turn left at corridor 22-E. The turbolift is 6 metres away from that corridor." Konnu grunted and began walking away. 

* * * 

The aft turbolift on the bridge hissed open. Konnu stood within. "Lt. Konnu reporting for duty. Permission to come aboard Captain." 

"Well, I can't really object as you are already here. Welcome aboard Mr Konnu." Jack said. Konnu recognized his friend Maverint Slike seated at the Conn. "I'm sorry I haven't had the time to review your file in detail Mr. Konnu, what areas are you specialized in?" 

"Tactical and security, Captain." 

"Perfect..." a small grin appeared on Picard's face. Konnu was quickly brought up to date on the plan to introduce nanites into the Borg. 

"So when their memory is destroyed by the nanites, what will happen?" Konnu asked. 

"Like any computer that runs out of memory, they should simply stop everything, we hope." informed Jack. Suddenly a communication was broadcast on the bridge. 

"Cole to bridge." 

"Bridge here." Picard responded. 

"We have the nanites in tow, and are ready for transport." 

"Very well, proceed." Jack thought for a second and then added, "Maintain an open channel Number one. I want to know what's going on over there." 

"Aye Captain. We are beaming over now." 

"Good Luck. Mr. Konnu, take the tactical station, until Salek returns." Picard finished giving orders for the moment and sat down in the chair. 

`Very strange...' thought Konnu. ` A Romulan weapons officer?' He ignored this oddity for the moment and dumped his tricorder's information into the main computer. He began analyzing the sensor scans of the Borg ship. 

Suddenly, a blip from the tactical control panel diverted his attention. "Captain! The _Pach'Iw_ is uncloaking for another attack!" Konnu reported. 

As the crew watched, the Klingon battle cruiser de-cloaked and everyone could see the energy discharge forming around the tip of the ship's powerful disruptor cannon. Before the shot could be released, however, a force beam from the Borg ship lashed out and neatly cut off the right warp engine. This made the battle cruiser go out of control, spinning slowly like some kind of strange disc. The _Pach'Iw_'s shot was discharged. Everybody on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ cringed in anticipation of a direct hit, but fortunately, the powerful ball of energy missed the ship by several kilometres. The _Pach'Iw_ narrowly managed to regain directional control as it brushed past the Borg ship. The Klingons engaged their cloaking device, but their presence was occasionally betrayed by plasma sparks trailing from the ship's severe wound. 

"Time to Borg regeneration?" Jack asked. How long did Barnabas and Salek have? 

"Approximately 4 minutes Captain." Konnu replied. An ensign who was monitoring the science station spoke next. 

"Captain, I'm picking up some strange readings from the Borg ship..." the ensign reported. She nervously moved aside as Picard walked over. 

"Looks like they're trying to raise their electromagnetic shields again." Jack tapped her communicator. "Mr. Cole how much more time do you require?" 

"Just another minute, or two... We have to be thorough or the nanites won't accomplish anything! We are trying to sssspppkkkk..." 

The channel was overcome by static. Konnu attempted to reopen communications. He smacked the control panel in frustration. "No good Captain. The Borg have raised their electromagnetic shields. We cannot beam them back or communicate with them." 

"Shuttles would be too risky..." Jack was already looking for alternatives. 

"Actually Captain," Konnu said, " my tricorder scans of the Borg ship have revealed the locations of their weapons hard points. We could fly 2 shuttles inside the Borg shields, and close enough to their ship to be inside the minimum range of their weapons. We would only need some covering fire from the _Enterprise_..." 

"Good idea, but why 2 shuttles?" Jack asked. 

"A shuttle's transporter can only safely transport 2 persons at a time." 

"Good thinking. Get out there Mr. Konnu." 

"Aye Captain." Konnu turned for the turbolift door but stopped as he heard Maverint Slike's familiar voice. 

"Captain, I request permission to be assigned to this duty." Slike said. 

"For what reason? I think you'd better serve us here..." 

"Because Ma'am, I've been in a shuttle piloted by Lt. Konnu before..." 

"That was a long time ago Lt. Slike!" Konnu barked. 

"I see. Very well, just make sure you all come back." Picard turned and stared at the viewscreen as the turbo lift doors shut. 

* * * 

Konnu and Maverint got off of the turbolift and began running for the shuttle bay. 

"bipivHa'law' (you look terrible)" Maverint growled as they ran. 

"You are improving. The last time you spoke in my language you told me I had dirt under my fingernails." 

"I meant to say you had honour..." 

"Honour! You speak of honour when it was you who won 50 credits from me in a poker game and you never gave me a chance for a rematch!" 

"I was busy getting married at the time... Rematch tonight if we get outta this?" 

"Be prepared to lose." 

* * * 

Konnu and Maverint arrived at shuttle bay 2 and met the two people who would pilot the other shuttle. Ensigns Martinez and Wolffe fired up the shuttle `Fermi' while Maverint and Konnu manned the `Galileo-12'. As the shuttles left the _Enterprise_, Konnu turned to Maverint. 

"How have you improved your Klingon accent so much?" 

"Oh, it's easy. I just pretend a Klingon is jumping on my chest." 

"Hahaha. Your sense of humour has improved as well!" 

* * * 

From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

"_Enterprise_, this is shuttle Galileo 12. We are 100 kilometres from the limit of the Borg electromagnetic field. We will cross the barrier in 1.4 minutes." 

"Understood, Galileo." 

"So you took a tour of duty aboard the _Pach'Iw_, Konnu?... I thought you'd never leave a post of power aboard a battlecruiser like the Sovereign Class..." Maverint said rather slyly to his friend. 

"It proved to be... tiring." Konnu replied bluntly, then quickly turned his attention to making minor course corrections. 

"Tiring?!" Mav smirked. "I never thought I'd hear that word come from a Klingon mouth." 

"I was being polite..." Konnu lowly rumbled. "I held my post with honour, but it proved to be below my abilities. I wanted something more... challenging." 

"Having an older brother for a superior officer is about as challenging as you could get, I suppose..." Maverint trailed off, realizing the slight faux-pas he made with the mention of Krador. "We are about to pass through the electromagnetic barrier. Shuttle Fermi, what is your status?" 

"We are following 4.5 kilometres behind you, sir, on a parallel course." came the reply from a young ensign. 

"Good." Maverint acknowledged. "Once you pass through the barrier, proceed to the coordinates in your flight computer and locate any of the away team in your section of the Borg ship. Do not power your engines for any reason. It will make you stick out like Taklian phlea on a poodle. Galileo out." 

"An earth poodle would never be able to withstand the weight of a Taklian phlea seeing as they outweigh an average human by 200 pounds." Konnu remarked. "Oh... I see... Maybe I was wrong about you acquiring a better sense of humour..." 

The shuttle shook slightly as its hull passed through the 'shield' surrounding the Borg ship. "We have passed through the electromagnetic field." Konnu reported. 

Maverint tapped his communicator. "Away team, this is Lieutenant Slike. Respond please." 

As Konnu fired thrusters to bring the shuttle to a full stop, Mav got his reply. 

"Lieutenant." came Barnabas' voice, his tone posing the question he needn't ask. 

"The Borg have put up their electromagnetic field around the ship. I am aboard one of two shuttles positioned out of the Borg's firing arc sent to retrieve your away team." Maverint replied. 

"Our nanite infection has caused significant damage to the Borg's operation. The power conduits are radiating more sporadically in the passing minutes." Barnabas said, the odd pulsing hum in the background giving proof to his conjecture. 

"Understood sir. The on-board computer has locked onto your coordinates. Are you ready for transport?" Maverint asked. 

"Have you located the other members of the away team?" 

Maverint looked over at Konnu who was noting the incoming communications from the other shuttle. 

"Shuttle Fermi reports they have beamed aboard Mr. Mordon" Konnu replied. 

"Did you copy that, sir?" Maverint asked. 

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. You have a positive lock on Mr. Salek and Ensign Amburil?" 

"The computer is unable to locate Ensign Amburil's signal on board the Borg ship, sir. According to the shuttle's sensors, her signal is 4000 kilometres away." 

Konnu looks up from his panel. "Her signal matches a point on the projected flight path of the _Pach'Iw_. She must be aboard." 

"Bring us aboard the shuttle then, Lieutenant." 

In seconds Barnabas and Salek were aboard the Galileo 12. Maverint pivoted the shuttle with the thrusters and fired the nacelles enough to get them to the _Enterprise_ before powering them off again. It was when he looked up at the viewport to see the progress of the Fermi that his heart jumped. Missing the communication panel the first try, he opened a channel to the Fermi. 

"Ensign Martinez! Shut down your engines! Before..." 

The cutting beam sliced through the hull of the Fermi and in seconds it was gone, the sparks of its destruction snuffed out in the vacuum of space just as fast as they appeared. 

On the bridge, Jacqueline saw the explosion. 

"Ensign! Fire a Riker spread!" she ordered quickly. 

Anti matter crackled around the shuttle as the Borg cutting beam continued to discharge on and off, searching for it. Konnu powered the engines and Maverint piloted it through the spread. 

Half a minute later, the shuttle touched down inside the hangar bay and Barnabas, Salek, Konnu and Maverint made their way to the bridge. 

* * * 

From: Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack stood motionless, staring out at the charred wreckage of the Fermi as it drifted past the main viewer. Three good crewmen... the faces of the dead formed themselves automatically in her mind, and she shut her eyes against the pain of it. Martinez, with her black curls and sparkling brown eyes, small face glowing with excitement, ready to take on absolutely anything. Wolffe, grave and bearded, dependable almost to a fault. Morden, boyish in appearance, but a brave and impressive fighter, willing even to give up his life in the service of Starfleet. All of them dead, within seconds. They would never come back, never. Just one shot from the Borg ship had ended their dreams, their plans, their lives. 

"Captain?" said a voice. 

She turned and saw Barnabas coming down the ramp. His uniform was torn and filthy, and his eyes were even more haunted than usual. Konnu and Maverint followed close behind him. Salek resumed his place at the Tactical station. 

"Where is Ensign Amburil?" said Jack. 

"She is on board the _Pach'Iw_, sir," Konnu replied. 

"As long as she is safe. Mr. Cole, your report, please?" 

Barnabas took a deep breath and began to reply... 

* * * 

From: Counsellor T'Pryn 

"This is going to be the last one, I think," grunted James. "If I cut off any more of these receptors, I might kill him." 

T'Pryn glanced at the readout of Nikctalos' vital signs. It was hard to tell how well he might be; the body temperature of a Borg was always so low, a two-degree increase might not be anything to worry about--or it could be a raging Borg fever. Nikctalos himself remained motionless and silent, and T'Pryn's knowledge of his condition extended only to his mental discipline. That was still strong, thanks to her intervention, and would hopefully be stronger still when the last receptor to the Borglink was shut off. 

"Counsellor. Is this safe?" asked James. 

"Your pardon, Doctor," said T'Pryn. "My mind was occupied. Yes, I believe this will be safe. You may proceed." 

"You get a lot more Vulcan in a crisis," noted N'Dok as he prepared another betaparazine injection. 

"It is calculated," said T'Pryn. "It would not be logical to allow emotion when it could be detrimental to my efficiency as an officer." 

"Makes a certain amount of--gods!" James jumped back as Nikctalos' body began to convulse violently. T'Pryn's hands were torn from the Borg's skull; she staggered back and caught herself just in time to keep from falling. 

"Computer! Activate restraint field!" shouted James. A red glow surrounded Nikctalos' body and the convulsions stopped, but the readings on the scanner continued to fluctuate wildly. "Counsellor! What's happening to him?" 

T'Pryn took a deep breath, stepped forward and laid her hands on Nikctalos' head once more. "Chaos," she said. "An enemy attacking from within, like a disease. Hundreds of thousands, multiplying, growing..." She snatched her hands back before she began to share Nikctalos's pain. "I believe the Borglink is sensing the intrusion of the Nanites into their central system. Nikctalos feels it too. He is... dying, Doctor." 

James's boyish face took on a look of unusual grimness. "Are you sure?" 

"I am certain. He will die." 

"Not if I can help it," muttered N'Dok. He whirled and shouted, "Kate! Bring me 3 more cc's of betaparazine!" 

"What do you intend to do, Doctor?" asked T'Pryn as the Chief Medical Officer's Second hurried over with the requested injector and pressed it into James's hand. 

"If he's going to die anyway I've got nothing to lose," said James. "I'm going to kill the rest of those receptors." He scrutinized the neural scanner a moment, then crouched down and pressed the injector against Nikctalos's temple. For a moment nothing happened, and the Borg's vital signs continued to flicker. Then everything seemed to stop dead. 

"Is--" began Kate. 

"Shhh," said James, watching the scanner. 

Bleep. Body temperature began to creep back down. Bleep. Heartbeat stabilizing. Bleep. Blood pressure decreasing to normal. 

"I did it!" James gave a whoop and threw the injector up in the air. He grabbed the startled Kate and whirled her around in a dance of joy. "He's alive!" 

"He appears to be still connected to the Borglink in a subtler way," observed T'Pryn. "If he were wholly cut off from their influence, I do not believe he could survive. But the conscious part of their interference has disappeared. He is still of Borg, but more himself than I believe any Borg has ever been. And his consciousness is returning. He will be exhausted and need time to regenerate, but he will recover." She withdrew her hands from Nikctalos' brow. "Your performance has been quite adequate, Doctor. The Captain will be pleased." 

"She'd better be!" said James. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Cmdr. Barnabas Cole 

"It worked", said Barnabas grimly, still gazing at some indefinite point in space. The viewscreen still showed the Borg ship, now paralysed, but the shuttle was gone. Forever. "We split up, and I haven't communicated with Amburil since we split up, but Salek, Morden, and I went together a little ways until we found a very long shaft. There were no rungs, but there was a large metal pole which must have been used for the elevator, but the elevators were not in sight. Morden climbed onto it, and quickly slid out of sight. 

"Feedback to the ships computers show that his unit was the first to infect the Borg, and his unit did the most damage. He got almost to the relative bottom of the ship. I got up three levels, climbing up slowly by holding onto conduits and access holes, decided to run lengthwise until I felt I had reached the centre of the ship or at least nearly. 

"The Borglink didn't accept the handshake from my unit, so I shut it off and ran over one more corridor. I encountered a Borg unit, and shot him. I didn't see any more of them. Morden radioed me to tell me that he had set his unit up and that it seemed to have taken root. He also said he hadn't run into any of the Borg on his level, and he thought perhaps he had reached an engineering or computer room. We don't have maps of the cube's layout, so we can only guess. I didn't hear from Salek or Amburil. 

"I set my console up a second time, and this time they cracked my code. They stopped my Nanites. I wrote the cypher on that one myself, and I had thought it was a good one. They got back 'inside' my own computer and deciphered its logic. I don't know how they did that. If it had run, the Borglink would have overflowed sooner, and they wouldn't have been able to squeeze off that shot." He cursed himself inaudibly. 

Jack sighed. "I know what you're thinking" she said, "and you're wrong. There is nothing more that can be done, and as much as this hurts us, we could not have done anything else, in good conscience." 

Barnabas looked around, his face was now forcibly calm but still grim, and his wrinkled forehead was sweaty. His eyes betrayed worry, something he didn't normally allow himself to show. 

"You don't have any Betazoid blood in you, by any chance?" he asked. He did not smile, but his lips lost a little of their bitter curl and the hard lines on his forehead softened. He knew she couldn't read his mind, but she knew him well and it didn't take telepathy to tell he was deep into a personal battle with his own regret. 

"I want to sink into bed and not wake up for a long time" he added, "but we still have this ship to deal with. I think we've got them in deadly embrace, and we could systematically destroy the ship." 

Barnabas did not think she would give the order to fire. _In war, who can judge right and wrong?_ he asked himself. _Yet the Borg would kill us all without hesitation if it suited their purposes._ Their cold activities seemed to leave them no room for guilt or ethics, yet they did seem capable of reprisal. For what could the shot at the shuttle have been but a last attempt to inflict damage? 

The _Enterprise_ stood over the crippled Borg ship, as if poised for the coup-de-grace. 

"How is Nikctalos?" Barnabas asked, quietly. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Konnu/Capt. Picard 

"_Who_ is Nikctalos?" asked Konnu. 

Jack shook her head. "He's a Borg. Believe me, it would take too long to explain." 

"Not the Borg I saw in Sick Bay?" 

"Yes." 

Konnu raised his eyebrows. "A Romulan at Tactical and a Borg in Sick Bay--this is the strangest ship I have ever been on. Well. You say, Commander--" he looked at Barnabas-- "that you think the Borg ship should be crippled by now. But we have no way of knowing how far the Nanite infection has spread." 

"True," said Barnabas reluctantly. "According to our previous calculations, the Nanites would have infiltrated the whole Borg network by now _if_ all of the hand-helds had operated at optimum efficiency. We can't be sure how effective the Borg have been at stopping this infection. All we can say is that they appear to be crippled and that they have not fired a shot since the one that destroyed the Fermi." 

"So any second now, the Borg could be tearing this ship apart!" Konnu looked grim. "We need to distract them until we can be sure the Nanites have done their work." 

"Captain," Mac Moore reported from the engineering console at the back of the bridge. " The cloaking device will only operate for another 5 minutes until I have to shut it down." 

"Well," Jack addressed the bridge crew, "any suggestions?" 

"Captain," Salek turned around from the Ops station. "We could lead the Borg on a high warp chase. It would buy us time..." 

"Bah!" Konnu almost spat out a racial slur until he checked himself. The Romulan was a higher ranking officer. 

"Perhaps the Klingon has a better suggestion?" Salek spat. 

"That will do Centurion." Picard was getting upset. The Klingon and Romulan were already exchanging deadly looks. "Well Mr. Konnu, have your say." 

"We could make for the Lodge asteroid cloud. Once there, we could use the asteroids to our advantage! We could hide amongst them and wait for the time to attack the Borg!" 

"That might not--" began Jack, but Salek interrupted her. 

"Captain! Incoming transmission... It's being forced to the screen!" 

The crew gasped as they watched the form of a Klingon-Borg appear on the main viewer. 

"G'arecth!" Konnu shouted after recognizing his old friend in this new, hideous form. 

"The G'arecth unit no longer exists. I am Laboitor, of Borg. Your preparations are irrelevant. Your attempts to harm us with small creatures are irrelevant." 

"He's bluffing!" said Barnabas. 

"Bluffing is irrelevant. You will now unconditionally surrender to the Borg. We will reclaim the Borg unit we seek, and you will all be assimilated. Any further resistance will result in the destruction of your vessel." 

Jack made a slashing motion across her throat to cut communications. The main viewer returned to showing the outside of the imposing Borg ship. 

"They may or may not be right about the Nanites," she said. "Mr. Konnu, I think we're going to have to take your suggestion. Mr. Slike, take the helm; I'm counting on you to keep this ship from colliding with any of those asteroids. Estimated time to the Lodge asteroid cloud?" 

"Five minutes at Warp Nine, Captain." 

"Plot cours 127 bearing 280 mark 7. Cloaker to half-power, Mr. Salek, and... engage." Jack turned and sat down in the Captain's chair as the _Enterprise_ wheeled and shot off into the void, the Borg vessel in lumbering pursuit. 

"It appears to be barely able to keep up with us, Captain," said Barnabas. "I think the Nanites aren't quite as irrelevant as the Borg thought they were." 

"Good," said Jack. "Let's see how long it takes before they're _really_ relevant..." 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

"Borg vessel remains in pursuit," said Maverint. "Now entering the Lodge asteroid belt." 

"Steady as she goes, Lieutenant." Jack rose from her chair and began slowly to pace the bridge. "There is no time to call an official council on this matter, but I would like your input. Lieutenant Konnu, you may consider yourself part of this council for the moment." 

"My thanks, Captain," said Konnu. 

Jack gave him a short nod of acknowledgement. "It seems clear that the Nanites are doing their job. The Borg ship is unable to maintain a prolonged pursuit and has made no effort to fire its weapons." 

"Electromagnetic shield strength is decreasing steadily," said Maverint, his eyes on the helm readout. 

"That's consistent with the projected results of a late-stage Nanite infection," said Barnabas. "I think there can be no doubt that our operation has been a success." 

"In that case, we have the potential to destroy the Borg ship," Jack continued. "The question is: should we?" 

"If you will permit me to suggest, Captain," said Salek from above, "such an attack upon a crippled vessel might be considered grounds for an all-out war between the Borg and the Federation." 

"And if the Borg decide to make a war out of this," Barnabas added sombrely, "we won't be able to use the same tricks on them again. They learn from every battle. They'll develop a complete defense against future Nanite infiltration, and a resistance to detonite explosives, and we'll be no better off than anybody who'd never met the Borg before. We'd be dead in the water." 

"It is certain that the Federation could not withstand an all- out Borg assault," rumbled Konnu. "One ship was able to destroy six Federation vessels during the last encounter with the Borg. The reappearance of another Borg ship suggests that they may have a great number of other vessels which, if employed in this battle, could conceivably destroy the Federation as we know it." 

Jack looked grave. "I am aware of that, Lieutenant. However, the danger of not destroying this ship may be just as great." 

"What is the purpose of the Borg in invading this sector?" Konnu asked, heavy brow furrowing. "They do not seem to be bent upon conquest. They treated the _Pach'Iw_ as if it were a mere obstacle to their real goal." 

"It was," said Jack. "They want the Borg unit you saw in Sick Bay--Nikctalos D'pyrann. However, he is a Starfleet officer, and I do not intend to let him go." 

"Is one Borg worth the lives of three crewmen?" asked Salek in astonishment. 

"For once I find that I agree with a Romulan," said Konnu. "This does not seem to make sense." 

"When I entered this battle," said Jack tightly, "it was not my intent to lose _any_ crewmen. The fact that we have lost three is indeed a blow to the _Enterprise_. However, the Borg are a threat which must be dealt with. They are not known for compassion: who is to say that, given Nikctalos, they would not immediately destroy this vessel and move on to conquest of the entire sector? That is a risk I am not inclined to take, sirs. No, Nikctalos will remain, and we _will_ finish this battle." 

An asteroid tumbled past the screen and on into the reaches of space. "That looked a little close, Mr. Slike," said Jack. 

"Sorry, sir. Electromagnetic fluctuations from the Borg vessel seem to be altering the trajectories of these asteroids. Recommend we exit the field as soon as possible." 

"Recommendation accepted," said Jack. "It would be extremely embarrassing to beat the Borg and then be pummelled to death by asteroids." 

Maverint laid in the new course. "The Borg's electromagnetic field is off, Captain. They seem to have experienced major power loss to their systems. Regeneration rate has dropped to 10% of normal capacity." 

"They're dying," said Barnabas. "They're no threat to us now." 

"Agreed," said Jack. "Mr. Salek--" 

"N'Dok to Picard," crackled James's voice through the communicator. Jack touched her badge. "Yes, Doctor?" 

"I've just managed to isolate Nikctalos D'pyrann completely from the conscious part of the Borglink! Or so Counsellor T'Pryn tells me." 

"That is correct," confirmed T'Pryn's quiet voice. 

"How is he?" asked Barnabas. 

"He's pretty ragged out, but I'll say he should be back to normal within a couple of days." 

"That's good news, Doctor," said Jack. "Keep us posted. Picard out." 

"Captain!" said Maverint. "Energy levels increasing on the Borg ship!" 

"Communication coming through," said Salek almost at the same moment. 

"Open channel," said Barnabas. 

The half-Klingon, half-Borg Laboitor appeared on the screen. One hand was clutched to his chest as if he were suffering the advanced stages of a heart attack; the other gripped the metal pole beside him for support. "Borg unit 889 349 246 345 001 has been terminated," he rasped. "It has become irrelevant." 

"So it has," said Jack crisply. "And so have you. Mr. Salek, prime all weapons--" 

"Captain!" shouted Maverint. "The Borg ship is about to self- destruct!" 

"Warp Eight, Lieutenant! Engage!" 

Maverint's hands flew across the console. The _Enterprise_ veered and shot out of the asteroid belt like an arrow from Orion's bow, just as the Borg ship convulsed, glowed white-hot and exploded like a supernova. Chunks of flaming debris hurtled past the _Enterprise_, and the ship rocked. 

"Captain! Aft shields down by 30%!" came Mac Moore's voice over the intercom. 

"Transfer all power to the aft shields!" shouted Jack. "Lieutenant, increase to Warp Nine!" 

"Increasing... we've made it!" 

"On screen, Mr. Slike." 

The main viewer filled with the image of the vast black reaches of space, what had once been the Borg ship now a mere twinkling star among a thousand. 

Jack took a deep breath. "Drop to Warp Two, Lieutenant. Lay in course for Starbase 643. Mr. Salek, open a frequency to the _Pach'Iw_." 

"Hailing frequency open," said Salek, and Jack found herself looking at the weary face of the _Pach'Iw_'s Captain. "Captain Krador," she acknowledged. "May I congratulate you and your crewmen for their valiant efforts in the service of the Klingon Empire and of the Federation. And may I also extend my condolences on the loss of your crewmembers. We too have suffered losses in this battle, but as you can well see the struggle was not in vain." 

"Indeed," growled Krador. "We have your Ensign Amburil on board our ship. She was responsible for the rescue of one of our officers. For that you have our gratitude." 

"We will rendezvous at Starbase 643, if you are amenable to the arrangement," said Jack, "and we will retrieve our Ensign there. You would also be very welcome to stop and refresh yourself, and I feel certain also that the Starbase will be glad to provide you with whatever resources you will need to repair your ship for the journey home." 

"Our thanks, Captain Picard," said Krador. "We will meet you at the Starbase. Krador out." His image vanished. 

Jack let out a long breath and turned to see Barnabas looking at her. He looked more tired than she had ever seen him before. "Mr. Cole," she said quietly, "you are dismissed. Go and get some sleep." 

Barnabas looked as though he were about to protest, then nodded slowly and trudged up the ramp to the turbolift. Jack turned to Konnu. "Lieutenant, I appreciate your great service to this ship, but you are no longer required for the present: I offer you the freedom of the _Enterprise_. If you wish, quarters will be provided, or you may wish to engage in a battle simulation on the holodecks--" 

Konnu bared his teeth in a slow Klingon smile. "You know your Klingons well, Captain." He saluted her and headed after Barnabas. Jack watched him go and then collapsed into her chair. 

"This has been the longest day of my life," she said. 

* * * 

From: Doctor James N'dok 

James was busy at work. He had just managed to sever the new Starfleet Borg completely from the Borg-consciousness. A report was due and... 

"James!" It was Kate. N'Dok wheeled around to come face to face with a Borg. 

"Abduction is irrelevant. Return our malfunctioning unit." 

James was getting angry. "Wanna know something you piece of tin? YOU'RE irrelevant." He raised his phaser and fired at the Borg, apparently killing him. "And so are the Borg," he added. 

* * * 

"N'Dok to Picard!" 

"What's up, Doctor? How's our patient doing?" 

"Just fine Captain, but we've, uh, had a vistor." 

"A visitor...?" Jacqueline paused. "A Borg?" 

"Yes sir. I killed it." 

There was a brief pause. James concluded that Jack was checking with the bridge staff to confirm. "We didn't detect it, Doctor." 

"Uh oh. This doesn't seem good, Captain." 

"I agree, Doctor. Senior Officers meeting in 10 minutes." 

"Yes sir." 

James took a moment to reflect. "I hate this..." he muttered. 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

"The Borg Dr. N'Dok shot may have been the only one," said Jack. "But we can't be sure of that. Our sensors aren't telling us anything." 

Silence. She stopped pacing around the council table and gazed at her officers. Barnabas, having enjoyed precisely thirty seconds of sleep before the meeting was called, sat at the far end of the table looking like the creation of an unusually inventive taxidermist; James was a little wild around the eyes after his encounter with the Borg; Salek and Konnu were busy exchanging baleful glares; and even the effervescent Mac looked sombre. Jack herself felt like she'd been dragged backward through a Tigellian harvester. The only one who seemed to have it all together was T'Pryn--but then with Vulcans, one never knew. 

"I've tried modifying the sensors to pinpoint the Borg," said Mac wearily, "but nothing seems to pick them up. They've got to be wearing some sort of sensor-jamming device--or maybe it's built into them. Or there aren't any more Borg on board, but for some reason I kinda doubt that." 

"So do I," said Salek dryly. "It would seem logical--" T'Pryn glanced at him sharply, then smiled-- "that if the Borg were able to transport any units off the ship before it exploded, they'd do so. Not as we would, to save individual lives, but rather in one last attempt to destroy us." 

"How many Borg do you think would have made it here, then?" 

"There is no way to be certain," growled Konnu. "Except to make a complete manual sweep of all decks." 

Jack nodded. "Mr. Salek, coordinate Security and make it so." 

As Salek rose from his seat and headed toward the door, Konnu said, "May I be permitted to participate in the sweep, sir? I would like to familiarize myself with this vessel." 

"And you'd hate to miss a good fight, no doubt," said Jack with a half-smile. "Proceed, Mr. Konnu. Oh, and both of you--" 

Salek and Konnu stopped and looked back. 

"Try not to kill each other, will you? It's the Borg we're supposed to be fighting, not ourselves." 

The grin that tugged at the Klingon's mouth was a little bit sheepish, Salek's raised eyebrows equally so. The door hissed shut behind them and Jack continued, "Well. The question is--" 

"I have a question," said Mac abruptly. "If there are any Borg units left on board, how are they functioning? On board their ship they depend on a computer network, so they can act together. Without that Group Mind, they're useless." 

"In fact, they generally die," added Barnabas, who was starting to look somewhat less stuffed and more like his old self again. 

"Right," said Mac. "So how are they functioning now?" 

Barnabas looked at Mac. Mac looked at James. James looked at T'Pryn. T'Pryn looked at Jack. And a single word came from five mouths at once: 

"Moriarty." 

"Did you call me, Captain?" came the familiar cultured British voice over the intercom. Now, however, it sounded unusually strained. "My pardon, but I am finding myself somewhat taxed at the moment." 

"I imagine you are," said Jack crisply. "How long ago did they penetrate your system?" 

"Approximately fifteen minutes ago a Borg unit appeared in Holodeck One and jacked itself in." 

"Is it still there?" 

Moriarty's voice had a catch in it. "I--don't know, Captain. I have been cut off from assimilating any sensor readings. Jacqueline, is this what it's like to be blind?" 

The plaintive note in the last sentence made Jack's throat tighten, but she refused to let it show. "Can't you fight them?" 

"I am making every effort--Jacqueline, I have no time to speak to you! My pardon! Moriarty out." 

"Mr. Moore," said Jack. "I want an Engineering team working on restoring sensor functions. Give Moriarty all the help you can." She touched her communicator. "Mr. Salek, you may find a Borg unit in Holodeck One." 

"...Aye, sir. Proceeding." 

Jack took a deep breath and sank down into the Captain's chair at the head of the table. "Well, Mr. Cole," she said to the silent, brooding figure beside her, "any further suggestions?" 

"If you don't mind, Captain, I'm going to steal James, and we'll go have a look at Nikctalos's internal schematics. We might be able to figure out some sort of chemical compound to release into the ship's atmosphere which would paralyse or kill any Borg on board, but leave us unharmed." 

"Of course we'd have to put Nikctalos in a quarantine unit first," put in James, with a lopsided grin. "Can't forget that, can we?" 

"I should say not," said Jack. "But the idea sounds an excellent one. Make it so. Counsellor T'Pryn, you may accompany me back to the bridge... This meeting is adjourned." 

* * * 

From: Lt. (JG) Konnu 

Konnu could feel his adrenaline rush as he and Salek ran into the first armoury they came across. The two began selecting several weapons they could use to remove the Borg from Holodeck One. Konnu wedged a Type IIB phaser into his belt, and picked up a Klingon combat blade from the ship's limited supply of Klingon weaponry. Salek holstered a Type III phaser rifle. Salek looked from his rifle to Konnu's blade and smiled. 

"The knife is a good weapon!" Konnu growled. 

Salek's smile turned into a small chuckle. 

"Bah!" Konnu turned and began running down the deck towards the Holodeck. Salek followed, trying not to laugh. 

The two were met outside the Holodeck by a small security force. "Lieutenants!" the leader of the security team, Ensign Stone, shouted. "The Borg is inside... jacked into the computer!" 

"What is he doing?" asked Salek. 

"Nothing sir. He's just ignoring us." Stone answered. Indeed, as Konnu and Salek stared into the open holodeck, the Borg was standing just inside the `arch'. A small cord was connecting his sensor arm to the computer console. Konnu and Salek prepared to fire. 

"Sirs!" Stone protested. "Aren't we supposed to give a warning..." 

"FIRE!!!" Konnu and Salek said in unison. The Klingon, Romulan, and five-member security team fired at the Borg. To Konnu's dismay, the familiar Borg shield sprang up and absorbed the phaser blasts as if it had been water hitting a thirsty sponge. Not to be daunted, Konnu ordered the computer to clear the safeties on their phasers. All Federation issue phasers and phaser rifles were tied into the ship's computer system, and an automatic safety program would not allow any of the phaser's to fire on a setting greater than a setting of 7, unless overridden. 

"Maximum power!" Konnu shouted. "FIRE!" Once again, the yellow-orange beams of energy lashed out at the Borg, and once again the blasts were absorbed by the Borg's shields. 

"What!?!" Salek said in disbelief. He switched the rifle to rapid fire and began peppering the Borg with phaser blasts. The Borg shields annulled them all. The Borg continued his assault on Moriarty, totally ignoring the trigger happy people outside of the Holodeck. 

"Are you quite done, sir?" Konnu barked. 

"I don't understand! Even on maximum power..." Salek looked at the rifle. It had overheated and had automatically shut down. 

"The Borg is tied into our computer. It knows the frequencies of all our weapons." Konnu explained. 

"Of course... why didn't we think of that. What now?" Salek asked. He had thought about trying to rush in and use physical force to remove the Borg, but he had heard what could happen in a holodeck when the safety measures were overridden, and no doubt, the Borg knew about such things now. 

"Well," The Klingon turned his back to the Borg and drew the Klingon blade from the ceremonial sash he wore over his uniform. "We could surrender and prepare for assimilation..." Konnu pressed a button on the knife and two smaller blades popped out from either side of the sharp, larger blade. The Borg spoke: 

"Assimilation is relevant." 

"Yaaagh!" Konnu spun and quickly threw the knife, not at the Borg, but at the Borg's lifeline to the _Enterprise_'s computer. It neatly sliced the cord in two. The Borg shorted out. Electricity arced all over the cyborg's body for a brief moment, and then the man/machine fell immobilized to the floor. Small puffs of yellow smoke rose from his ears. Konnu looked at Salek. 

"The knife IS a good weapon." Konnu cracked a rare Klingon smile. 

"I still liked the rifle." Salek pouted. 

"It isn't bad..." Konnu tapped his communicator. "Konnu to Captain Picard..." 

"Picard here. Report Lieutenant." 

"The intruder in Holodeck One has been... dealt with." Konnu noticed that Salek smiled at this interpretation of events. Perhaps this Romulan was different from the rest of the lowly race... 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

"Good work, Lieutenant," said Jack from her seat on the bridge. "Centurion, have you found any other Borg units on the ship?" 

"I've ordered the Security teams to do a full-deck sweep," said Salek. "So far we have received no reports of Borg encounters, but there are still several decks to be explored." 

"Acknowledged. Keep me posted." Jack turned the intercom off and raised her head. "Moriarty!" 

There was a long pause. 

"Moriarty! Respond, please." 

When the silence persisted she rose from her chair and headed over to the empty Ops station. Her fingers flashed across the touchpad, and her lips tightened in a frown. 

"It would appear that the Borg have rendered Moriarty deaf as well as blind," observed T'Pryn. 

"More or less. He's suffered full sensor shutdown." Jack tapped her badge. "Picard to Moore." 

Mac's voice echoed in the stillness of the bridge. "Captain?" 

"What's the status in Engineering? Have you been able to isolate any further Borg intrusions into the system?" 

"For all we know there might still be a Borg somewhere in here. I've got a couple of ensigns crawling around the power conduits with randomized phasers, but they haven't found anything so far. We're working on restoring sensor functions, but there still seems to be a lot of butter in the works." 

"Some crumbs must have gotten into it," murmured Jack. "You shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife." 

"But it was the _best_ butter." She heard the laugh in Mac's voice. "Didn't think you'd pick up on that one so fast." 

"I must have played _Alice in Wonderland_ on the holodecks about a thousand times as a child," said Jack. "I could hardly miss it. Very well, Mr. Moore, proceed. Keep me informed on your progress. I _need_ Moriarty back." 

Mac sounded faintly surprised. "Okay, Captain... Moore out." 

Jacqueline sat down at the Ops console, lips folding between her teeth as she concentrated. If she could just get some sort of line of communication open between Moriarty and herself, he might be able to tell her where the rest of the Borg might be, or how many there were, or something. 

She rapped out: PICARD TO MORIARTY. RESPOND. 

A long moment passed. Then the reply crawled hesitantly across the screen: --MORIARTY HERE--HOW MAY I ASSIST YOU?-- 

WHAT'S GOING ON? 

--I AM TRYING TO BREAK THE CODES INTRODUCED INTO MY SYSTEM BY THE BORG--BUT THE BORGLINK IS STILL IN USE-- 

YOU MEAN THERE'S A BORG STILL ALIVE? OR MORE THAN ONE? HOW MANY, MORIARTY? 

--I AM UNABLE TO DISCERN HOW MANY THERE MAY BE--PERHAPS ONLY ONE--JACQUELINE--I MUST GO-- 

>> END OF LINE <<

Jack touched her communicator. "Mr. Salek!" 

"Yes, Captain?" 

"Have you found anything yet?" 

"Nothing, sir. So far all teams have reported the decks clean." 

"Moriarty says there's still a Borg jacked in somewhere. Keep looking, Centurion!" 

"Aye, sir. Salek out." 

Jack took a deep breath. She needed to relax a little. She needed to think. There was nothing more she could do now; her crew was doing everything that could be expected of them. 

"Lieutenant," she said to Maverint Slike, "You have the bridge for the time being. I'll be in my Ready Room." 

Slike nodded, rose from his seat and moved toward the Captain's chair; Ensign Yarno took his place at the conn. Jack took one last glance at the bridge to reassure herself that all was well, walked into the Ready Room-- 

--And came face to face with a Borg. 

It was jacked into the mini-console on her wall, and it paid her absolutely no heed. Jack whacked her badge so hard she just about stabbed herself to death and barked "Security to the Ready Room on the double!" 

The Borg's head swivelled around. "Acting Captain Jacqueline Marie Picard, offspring of Locutus of Borg. You will be terminated." 

"I think not," said Jack between her teeth. But the Borg had jacked out. It moved between her and the door. She backed up slowly as the Borg approached, reaching for the emergency phaser clipped to the side of the desk. Then she remembered that it would be of no use to her whatsoever; the Borg was shielded. 

_Think, Jack! Think!_ But her thoughts were in fragments. She took another step back and bumped into the wall. The Borg reached out-- 

Then all at once she knew what to do. With a sudden surge of adrenalin she ducked away from the Borg's grasp, darted behind it, grabbed the two power couplings at the base of its neck and pulled with all her might. The Borg screamed--a high, inhuman, metallic whine--and convulsed. Sparks flew, burning Jack's hands, jolting her away from the Borg. She fell to the floor, just as the door burst open and Konnu rushed in, wielding a huge Klingon dagger. He hefted it and threw it with full force at the Borg unit. It buried itself in its back. The Borg dropped to the floor, still twitching but otherwise lifeless. They stared at it. 

"Captain," came Mac Moore's voice through her communicator, "the Borglink has gone off-line. We're breaking up the new code and restoring normal computer functions. Internal and external sensors should be on-line within the hour." 

Jack had to take a few deep, heaving breaths before she could reply. "Acknowledged... Mr. Moore. Good work. Picard out." 

Salek reached out to help Jack to her feet. She shook her head and stood up on her own, brushing dust from her uniform. She felt eerily calm, but when she looked down at her scarred and bleeding hands she saw that they were shaking. 

"Well done, Lieutenant," she said to Konnu. "Mr. Salek, I would be obliged if you would accompany me to Sick Bay--" 

And then, for the first time in Jack's life, she fainted. 

* * *

_Continued in Episode Five: "Elements of Danger"_


	5. Elements of Danger

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

* * *

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #5: "Elements of Danger" 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard...........Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Lt. Commander Barnabas Cole................Warren Postma  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Lt. (JG) Konnu.............................Russ Foubert  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


* * *

From: Lt. (JG) Konnu 

Konnu managed to catch Jack as she fell faint to the floor. Konnu rested her head gently on the floor. He tapped his communicator. "Lt. Konnu to sickbay..." He waited for a reply. No reply. "Konnu to sickbay..." Still no response. 

Konnu turned to Salek. "Communications must still be out. Go to sick bay and tell them I will be bringing the Captain down." Konnu looked down at Jack's burnt and bleeding hands. "Tell them she has incurred electrical burns to her hands and forearms." 

"Right. I'll get Ensign Stone to remove the Borg... trash." Salek pivoted and ran out of the ready room. 

Konnu took what was left of his tunic and ripped it into long strips and carefully bandaged Picard's bleeding wounds. Then the Klingon heaved her into his arms and made for the door. 

On the bridge, Maverint looked with concern at the sight of the bare-chested Klingon carrying the motionless form of the Captain. "Konnu! What happened in there?" Slike asked. 

"Later." Konnu walked into the turbo lift. 

"Destinaaaashun-n-n-n?" The still malfunctioning computer blurted out as the doors closed. 

"Sickbay." Konnu growled. Suddenly, that male voice spoke again. 

"Oh dear... What has happened to Jacqueline?" 

"Look, whatever you are, " Konnu barked. "I will publish a novel about it after we get to sickbay." 

"I was only trying to express my concern for..." Konnu ignored the voice as the turbolift came to a rest, and the doors hissed open. He began a fast walk towards the sickbay. 

"Uhhh... What?!" Jack mumbled. As she opened her eyes, she found a Klingon looking at her. 

"Sorry, I did not mean to startle you." Konnu apologized. 

"Uh, that's okay... where are we?" 

"Just outside sickbay. Your hands were burnt." 

"Thanks for reminding me. I can't feel my fingers... ouch." 

"Here we are." Konnu set the Captain on her feet. "I would not embarrass you, by carrying you into the sickbay." 

"I don't understand." 

"You must show your strength and walk into the sickbay by yourself." 

"A Klingon thing right?" 

"Yes Captain. You bear your pain well." 

"I'm trying to." Jack tried to straighten her tunic but found her hands completely bandaged. "Get word to Mr. Slike to proceed to Starbase 643 at Warp 2." 

"Aye, Captain." Konnu turned to leave. 

"Lieutenant, thank you." 

"Qapla'!" 

* * * 

Konnu made his way to his newly assigned quarters. The windows looked out towards the back of the ship, and provided a view overlooking the shuttlebays, aft torpedo launchers, and the room was filled with the reddish light of the Bussard Ramscoops on the Warp engines. Dark, red, and with a slight musty smell. 

"Just like home." Konnu said to no one. The room was sparsely furnished, but that would change when he received his personal belongings from the _Pach'Iw_. He wondered if his brother, Krador, knew that he survived the Borg... They would have quite a celebration during the _Enterprise_'s layover. Then there was the unpleasant business of the memorial services that had to be planned for Martinez, Wolffe and Morden. That would have to wait for the moment. Konnu was tired. When the Borg had appeared, he had already completed two shifts in the _Pach'Iw_. The Klingons had chased the Borg for five hours after that, until meeting the _Enterprise_... Konnu hadn't slept for over a day. 

Konnu paged the bridge and relayed the Captain's instructions to Maverint. He yawned a growl and moved towards the bed. He grunted in disgust. A mattress! He flung the mattress off of the bed and lay down on the hard surface underneath. The Federation certainly made comfortable beds... 

* * * 

Konnu awoke to the sound of the alarm he had programmed to wake him. It was 0600 hours. It was too early. He sat up in bed and the alarm turned off. He had only gotten about 4 hours of sleep, but it would have to do. He wanted to start his first day as Chief of Security early. There would be some procedures to familiarize himself with, actually, he had to become familiar with the whole ship. He groaned after realizing that the should have given himself more time. The humans seem to have this thing about personal hygiene, which included... bathing! 

* * * 

Security station one: 0700 hours. 

Konnu walked into the Security Station. He passed the empty brigs, and came upon the only person on duty at the guard's post. The guard stood at attention. 

"At ease, Ensign..." 

"Sarah Hickock, sir." 

Konnu looked at the empty brigs. "A most dangerous post, wouldn't you say?" 

"The only danger is falling asleep and getting caught by the new Chief of Security, sir. Pleasure meeting you sir." They shook each other's hand. "I'll show you to your office, sir." The slender Hickock led Konnu through an area of work stations, where the security personnel worked. Konnu noticed a plaque on the wall. 

" `The Precinct' ?" Konnu asked. 

"Oh, it's a bit of a joke around here sir. A long time ago, on Earth, Police stations used to be called `Precincts'. Lt. Morden thought of it. If you want me to take it down..." 

"No. It will remind us of him, and of his valiant sacrifice. The plaque will stay." 

"Very good, sir." 

Konnu noticed a bit of drawl in Hickock's speech. "Where are you from Ensign Hickock?" 

"New West Virginia, Earth, sir. Here we are." A glass door opened, and the two walked into the Security Chief's office. There was a box by the door, probably filled with Morden's personal effects. On the wall was a large tactical display of the _Enterprise_. From this room, all Security related functions could be monitored and controlled. Konnu picked up a hand held PADD computer from the desk. 

"Ensign Hickock, I will need an assistant. I would like you to fill this position." 

"Really?" Her eyes betrayed excitement. "Thank you Chief? I can call you Chief can't I sir?" 

"That would be fine. Assemble security division one in holodeck three at 0900 hours. I want to `assess' their combat readiness." 

"Yes sir. Is there anything else Chief?" 

"No. Dismissed Ensign." Konnu sat down behind a large desk with many displays on it. Ensign Hickock was a blur of shoulder length black hair as she rushed to make preparations. Konnu concentrated on the PADD's display. He was reading the recent General Log entries: 

> E.T.A. Starbase 643: 56 hours, 34 minutes. 
> 
> Medical officer report: Capt. J. Picard responded well to treatment. Assigned to bed rest for 24 hours. 
> 
> Lt. Cmdr Nikctalos D'pyrann returned to active status. 
> 
> Engineering report: All systems normal. Level 1 diagnostics being run on all systems. Require dilithium crystal restructure at Starbase 643. Require Cloaking systems maintenance at Starbase 643. 
> 
> Shuttle replacement scheduled in 64 hours, 12 minutes. Location: Starbase 643. 

Konnu added in a security report: 

> Security report: Memorial services for Ensign Martinez, Ensign Wolffe, and Lt. Morden scheduled at 1600 hours today. Holodeck 2. 

He then concentrated on the headlines in the GNN database. 

> Peace? Federation, Klingons, and Romulans to sign joint peace treaty in 1 month. Details on screen 4456-A. 
> 
> Who's the enemy? The past century has seen the three greatest powers in this quadrant form peaceful relations with each other: The Federation, Klingon Empire, Romulan Star Empire will be one happy family next month. Who will our adversaries be? Catch the complete Adversary report on Screen 697856-B. 
> 
> To'ntro Blejabs wins the Galactic series! Relive the Holo-ball Champ's roller coaster ride to the top. See screen 445865-S(ports). 

Suddenly, a new entry was added to the newsbase. 

> The latest Borg invasion repulsed! U.S.S. _Enterprise_ returns triumphant to Starbase 643, with no significant losses. Experts hopeful that new strategies can be employed. See the minute by minute details on screen 321189-A.

Konnu was disgusted. No significant losses! The news travelled so fast it was `warped' far beyond the truth journalism was supposed to represent. 

Suddenly, Konnu's communicator was paged. "Lieutenant Konnu, this is Doctor N'dok. Could you please report to the Sickbay... There's been a murder." 

* * * 

From: Lt. (JG) Konnu 

Konnu had Ensign Hickock postpone the skills assessment, and meet him in the sickbay. Dr. James N'Dok led the two into an operating room, and sealed the doors. 

"The deceased is Lt. Surnal, from Engineering. His current assignment was in the Environmental systems team. The time of death was approximately 0230 hours last night. Cause of death..." N'Dok pulled the sheet off of the top half of the body. "Projectile penetration of the upper brain. Death was instantaneous." James showed Konnu the projectile which had been removed from Surnal's head. 

"A... bullet?" Hickock suggested. "That's kind of primitive." 

"Yes, but with the proper type of delivery system, a gun, it would be undetectable to the ship's computer. A phaser would have set off the alarms." informed Konnu. 

"Ah, but that isn't all Lieutenant. A post-mortem scan revealed high concentrations of UniTheriEdelene, or UTE in the subject's body." 

"UTE? The use of that drug is illegal in all but the most barbaric cultures in the Quadrant..." Konnu remarked. 

"Its euphoric and strength enhancing qualities are quite attractive for some." N'Dok said. 

"Yeah," Hickock started, "it's ability to rapidly cause insanity or death must also be quite attractive. 1 in 3 go nuts after permanent addiction." 

"The question remains:" Konnu growled, "How did such a drug get aboard the ship? The transporters would detect any such drug..." 

"Another question for you to ponder Konnu:" N'Dok's face grew quite serious. "How are these people administering the drug? It has to be injected with a hypo-sprayer." 

"Did you check your stock of medical hypos?" Konnu asked. 

"Of course. They are all accounted for." the Doctor replied. 

"A hypo is a very delicate instrument isn't doctor?" Hickock said. "It couldn't be replicated in conventional replicators." 

"Well, a hypo consists of four main parts. Three of which could be made in a common replicator. But unless you had the specific schematics and a hotwired replicator, there's no way any one could make the injector mechanism." N'Dok covered up the body. 

"Why don't we try?" said Konnu. 

* * * 

Several hours later, the threesome had rewired one of the sickbay's replicators, and had programmed it to replicate an injector mechanism. N'Dok began the process while Konnu and Hickock monitored the procedure with their tricorders. So much power was involved that the replicator began to smoke. Finally, after several seconds of agonized humming an injector mechanism sprang into existence on the now deceased replicator's terminal. N'Dok examined the instrument. 

"Hmm. This thing is good for at best, four maybe five injections." 

"After which, a new injector unit would have to be made. Doctor, how frequently would an addict take an injection?" Konnu asked. 

"I'm not quite sure. Perhaps two to three day intervals, during the early stages. I'd have to say every day after prolonged usage. Either that or a person would have to increase the dosage to prolong the use of their homemade hypo." 

"Ensign Hickock..." Konnu called. 

"Chief?" 

"Take our tricorder readings and scan all replicator power records since the ship's last layover in Starbase." 

"Why a Starbase layover?" 

"It's my guess that the last supply of narcotics was brought aboard the ship not through a transporter, but through a docking hatch. No one would have been looking for contraband then." 

"Wow. Do you think the underworld is involved?" 

"I do not know. Also, look for any replicator replacements ordered recently. Go over all the logs and security records over last night. Maybe we can find out who killed Surnal." 

"I'll get right on it, Chief." With that Ensign Hickock left the sickbay. Konnu turned to James. 

"Doctor, this is a highly delicate investigation. I'm must ask you not to reveal anything that has happened to anyone, even the Captain." 

"Jack would never...!" N'Dok protested. 

"I know. Nevertheless, procedure dictates that everyone is under suspicion. Hopefully this will be over soon Doctor." 

"Let's hope so. I bring you an autopsy report later on today, Lieutenant." 

"Thank you doctor. One more thing, perhaps you can tell one person... The Borg." 

"Nikctalos? Of course he's the only one on the ship who could never be affected by UTE, but why?" 

"Perhaps Surnal knew too much for his own good. You must agree that we know too much ourselves... If we should go the way of Surnal, Nikctalos would be able to continue the investigation." 

"All right, enough." James said. "You're really depressing me." 

"Sorry. I will see you at the memorial service then?" 

"Of course Lieutenant." 

* * * 

Security Station One: 1530 hours. 

Maverint Slike walked into Konnu's office. He was wearing his ceremonial uniform for the memorial service to be held in half an hour. Konnu, in his ceremonial uniform, with his warrior's sash proudly displayed across his chest, rose and offered his good friend a seat. Konnu polarized the windows to his office so that no one could look into the office from outside. Privacy was assured. Konnu, knowing that his friend was completely trustworthy, gave Maverint a brief description of the drug problem onboard the ship. Konnu took the slug that had killed Surnal from a drawer in his desk and gave it to Maverint. Maverint shared his father's interest in marksmanship and the collection of rare and antique firearms. Slike investigated the bullet. 

"Hmmm... Looks like a 5.56 mm. Here! See these grooves here in the side?" Maverint showed Konnu. "They are from a device called a silencer. Good silencers completely muffle the explosive noise of a gun. This was used at point blank range... the silencer really reduces range." 

"Well, so far, that's all that we could discern. Can you see anything we missed?" 

"Uh.... I don't think so... wait! Here! There's a small burn mark at the back end of the bullet. A gun made of composite materials really heats up a bullet when fired. That's the only way a bullet could be scarred like that. The murder weapon must have been quite a piece of work. No metal parts to be detected by. It probably separates into pieces that can be easily concealed. Good luck trying to find this gun buddy." 

"You should wish us both luck Maverint." said Konnu grimly. "My aide has found some log evidence which point to 8 people possibly involved in this unpleasant business. We need evidence before we can make any charges though, and the best evidence we can get is the next shipment of UTE into this ship." 

"Well, that should be no problem. There are only two ways into the ship. The transporters would be out of the question, and no doubt you'll have personnel scanning at all the docking ports while we're at Starbase 643. I don't see how any UTE could make it into the ship." 

"Surnal was killed for a reason. Perhaps he was going to reveal his problem to us, and to avoid implication, someone shot Surnal. There's just too many possible explanations for his death right now, but two things are certain. 1 - We aren't scheduled for another Starbase layover for 5 months. The addicts will want to stock up on UTE before we leave Starbase 643. 2 - The killer knows the death of Surnal has alerted us. He knows that the docking ports will be guarded. However, Starbase 643 presents a unique opportunity for him to get his shipment of UTE." Konnu passed Maverint his PADD computer. The shuttle replacement time was displayed. 

"Oh, smooth. Real smooth. They're going to bring the drugs in on the new shuttle!" Maverint deduced. 

"As soon as that shuttle touches down, you are going to board it to perform a `routine' flight safety inspection." 

"Oh really? And where are you going to be?" 

"Don't worry. You'll have a tricorder to record everything you find. I'll get you a concealable phaser..." 

"Wait... I said where are you going to be?" 

"Don't worry Maverint. I'll have you covered." 

"Well, it's not like I have anything else to do..." A sudden beep emanated from Konnu's desk. It was 1550 hours. Time to go to the memorial service. 

"We'll talk about this later." Konnu said. Together the friends left for holodeck two and the memorial service. 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

Jack swam out of unconsciousness slowly, to find herself lying on soft grass in the warm sunlight. The sky above her was cloudless, as blue as any sky she had ever seen. Close by, a troupe of beech trees, graceful as dancers, stretched out their arms and rustled their green leaves at her as if in welcome. 

She could feel the grass beneath her hands, feel it prickling through her uniform. But her head was raised up, pillowed on something firm and smooth and oddly warm. She tilted her head back, opened her eyes, and found herself looking up at Moriarty. He smiled down at her and brushed a strand of hair from her face with a quick but strangely gentle gesture. 

"Where--where am I?" she asked. She wanted to move, but her body ached all over; she couldn't make her muscles work. And somehow it was good, too, to lie here with her head in Moriarty's lap, feel his strong hands stroking her hair, watch the familiar- unfamiliar face he had chosen for himself in all its subtle nuances of expression. 

Why had he chosen that face? It was not a handsome face: the eyes were too narrow, the nose too hooked, the mouth thin-lipped and almost cruel, hidden in the close-trimmed beard like a dangerous secret. It was a face with character rather than beauty, its aspect one of powerful, almost ruthless intellect. Yet it had life, and humour, and by some miracle it could even be tender-- like now. 

"Jacqueline," he said. The voice was deep, clear, perfectly enunciated as a trained Shakespearean actor's. And yet there was nothing artificial about it, nothing forced. "I persuaded your crew to let you rest here a while. They would have preferred Sick Bay or your quarters, of course, but I suggested you might benefit from a more fully relaxing environment. I hope, Madam, that I have not been presumptuous in anticipating the sort of thing you might find most pleasant to wake up to." 

She was too exhausted to argue about anything with anybody. "It's... fine," she murmured. She wanted to ask what he thought he was doing here, what made him think he had the right to hold her and to look at her like this, but she couldn't find the words. "Moriarty," she said, "what... why are..." 

The dark eyes hypnotized her then, and she forgot what she'd meant to ask. Suddenly it just seemed eminently sensible for her to be lying in the middle of a field of daisies with her head in the lap of the ship's computer. No, no, she shouldn't think of him that way; he wasn't, not really. What was Moriarty, anyhow? Part fictional creation, part holographic persona, partly a character of his own invention, and possessing control of the totality of the _Enterprise_'s computer functions... there had never been anyone else like Moriarty, and never would be again. 

Was that why she found him so fascinating? Perhaps. But how did that explain his fascination with her? Why did he speak her name in a way that nobody else on the whole ship, nobody else in her whole life, had ever spoken it? What did he want from her? 

And why was his face suddenly so close to hers? 

Jack sat bolt upright in her bed, clutching the covers against her, the memory of Moriarty's kiss burning on her mouth as if it had been real, and not a dream at all. She shook her head and pushed her hands through her hair, staring at her own white, scared face in the cheval-glass opposite. What on earth was she thinking of? Where had she managed to come up with a crazy dream like _that_? 

Obviously she had been under far too much pressure lately. To dream about being kissed by Moriarty, she'd have to have something seriously wrong with her mind. She resolved to ask T'Pryn about it tomorrow. The great advantage in Counsellors, especially Vulcan ones, was their complete confidentiality. And the most comforting thing of all was that she could be absolutely sure T'Pryn wouldn't laugh at her. Which was more than she could say for herself. 

With a little, rueful grin at her own weird imagination, Jack lay down again and pulled the covers over her head. By the time morning came, she'd have forgotten the whole thing. 

She hoped. 

* * * 

By the next day Jack's hands seemed to be mostly healed, if still a little stiff. She could still feel fatigue tugging at the edges of her mind, and according to James she was supposed to spend another 12 hours in bed, but the inescapable, ruthless sense that she was abandoning her duty to the _Enterprise_ forced her out of bed at a tidy 0700 hours. She read and made notes on a couple of Psalms, whispered a prayer, dressed herself carefully, ate a light breakfast and then headed for the bridge. 

"Captain!" said Barnabas in surprise when she appeared in the turbolift door. "You're--" 

"Yes, I know," said Jack. "But I couldn't stay in bed. You know me." 

"All too well," said Barnabas dryly. But he did move out of the Captain's chair and let her sit down. 

"So, what's the current state of affairs?" she said. 

"Commander Moore reported all computer functions back to normal as of 0600 hours. The Borg didn't do the computer any damage, they just rerouted or blocked some of the bitstreams to suit their purposes." 

"Good," said Jack. 

"Lt. Surnal failed to report to Engineering for duty. Dr. N'Dok has him down in Sick Bay. He's dead, but we don't know what of yet. The Doctor says he's still working on the report, but that he is certain there is no threat of contagion." 

"That's a relief, anyway." 

"Yes. The only other major event is the funeral for Lt. Morden and Ensigns Wolffe and Martinez to be held on Holodeck Two at 1600 hours. I was going to conduct it, but since you're up..." 

Jack nodded. "I will take that responsibility. Thank you for your report, Number One." 

* * * 

The funeral was a brief and simple one. Jack chose Westminster Cathedral as the setting, as befitting officers who had died valiantly in the line of battle. Well, perhaps it was a little extravagant, but it wasn't the _real_ Westminster Cathedral, and she was sure the families of the deceased would be touched by the gesture. 

The officers, in full dress uniform, surrounded the three caskets--which were purely symbolic, of course, as the bodies had been vaporized in the Borg attack. Jack gave a brief speech about the finer qualities of each officer, and how the crew would miss their presence on the _Enterprise_. There really wasn't anything more she could say than that, but as the crew filed silently out of the holodeck she couldn't shake the feeling that she ought to have said _something_. 

"You shouldn't be here," chided James as he followed her down the hall toward the turbolift. "I told you to stay in bed." 

"I am sufficiently rested to carry out my duties," Jack told him. "And my hands are healing well. Don't worry. I know my limitations, and I _am_ pacing myself, James. I know as well as you do that a ship can't function too well with a burned-out Captain." 

James looked dubious. Jack decided to change the subject: "How is the report on Lt. Surnal going?" 

The Doctor blanched. "Um... fine. I'm just compiling the report. I've had a lot of other things to do, so it may be a little while." 

"But there's no threat to the rest of the crew." 

"What killed Lt. Surnal," said James a little too carefully, "wasn't something anybody else could catch, I can say that much." 

He was hiding something. "James, what have you found?" 

"I can't tell you yet. Please--" he lowered his voice-- "just trust me, okay? I swear I'll tell you as soon as I can. This _is_ according to Starfleet Regulations, Jack. I'm not out of line." 

"I trust you," said Jack. "I'll await your report." She quickened her stride, leaving him behind so that she could be alone with her thoughts. He hadn't needed to tell her what was going on. She could guess. There was really only one kind of death that would produce this kind of reticence in a Chief Medical Officer. 

Jack was just glad James knew her well enough not to take her seriously as a suspect. She was also glad to have found an explanation for all the skulking around Lt.'s Konnu and Slike were doing. 

Well, she'd leave them to it. 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

Three days had passed since the end of the Borg encounter. Jack, alert and well-rested, her hands now completely healed, sat in the Captain's chair and watched as Maverint Slike expertly piloted the ship toward the Starbase sprawling out before them. 

Starbase 643 was one of the Federation's largest bases, equipped with full starship repair facilities and a docking bay so huge it could accommodate four or five _Enterprise_-sized ships and still have room to spare. It housed several scientific facilities of great renown, including the Federation's foremost propulsion lab, where the newest warp technology was tested. Admiral Hethor and his staff presided over the Starbase with an efficiency that had made Hethor one of the most respected officers in all of Starfleet. It also meant that the crew of the _Enterprise_ was in for a tough review. 

Jack closed her eyes. Just as she was getting used to being Captain, too... just as she was starting to like it. It hardly seemed fair, but then, it was not her place to question Starfleet's judgment in these matters. She only hoped the new Captain would be easy to get along with. 

Since Gabriele had been summoned back to HQ for review, her judgment in selecting officers for the _Enterprise_ was also in question. What would happen to Nikctalos, Salek, and T'Pryn? Jack would stand behind them 100%--especially after how invaluable each one of them had proved during the Borg crisis--but she wondered if Hethor and his staff would be as impressed with them as she was. 

Well, at least Barnabas, James and Mac had nothing to fear. Their sterling reputations and non-controversial background would make their part of the review a breeze. Barnabas would have to go back to being at Ops when Jack resumed her duties as First Officer, of course... would he feel the same way she felt when that happened? He had been a fine First Officer, and she had been almost positive he'd enjoyed it--as much as Barnabas Cole could be said to enjoy anything. 

"The Starbase is hailing us," said Salek, interrupting her thoughts. 

"On screen, Mr. Salek." Jack straightened the tunic of her uniform and sat up stiffly in her chair as the yellow-eyed, vaguely feline-looking face of Admiral Hethor appeared. 

"To Starbase 643 you are welcome," trilled the Admiral. "Heard we have of your battle with the Borg. Our safety to you we owe, Acting Captain Picard." 

"My crew responded most bravely to the unexpected crisis," said Jack. "I am very pleased with their performance. I trust that you will find likewise." 

The almond-shaped eyes narrowed. "That shall we see, Commander." There was a very faint emphasis on Jack's proper title, and inwardly she groaned. No, this wasn't going to be easy. 

"Cleared you are for entry to Docking Bay 1," said Hethor crisply. "Report you will to me all senior officers at 1300 hours. Hethor out." 

The image faded. "Take us in, Lieutenant," said Jack to Maverint. The Lieutenant nodded, flicked a hand over the touchpad, and the _Enterprise_ glided toward the open docking bay under impulse power. As they headed in they met another ship coming out, the U.S.S. _Bonaventure_. It was an old Olympus-class ship, and quite disconcertingly huge. 

Jack had seen Olympus-class ships before, but there was something different about this one--a number of things different, actually. Still, not until it had lumbered past them and all but vanished in the starry blackness did she remember what she had read about the _Bonaventure_: Starfleet was using it to test the new Gravity-Warp technology. Not that long ago she'd read a paper by the renowned Dr. Kethkin, head of the team that developed the drive, in which he spoke of how the _Bonaventure_'s overhead warp engine made it ideal for projection of the warp field necessary to initiate G-Warp. 

It looked as though the _Enterprise_ had arrived at Starbase 643 just in time to witness G-Warp testing in its final stages. She exchanged a glance with Barnabas and knew that he was thinking the same thing. Then the _Enterprise_ swam into the immense docking bay, and the Starbase swallowed it up. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Konnu 

Maverint skillfully piloted the _Enterprise_ through the vast interior of the space dock. Mav stopped the ship in its designated berth, right beside the U.S.S. _Paladin_, an Aegis class carrier. The _Paladin_ was easily a match for size with the _Enterprise_. The carrier had a contingent of 90 space fighters aboard which made it easy to see why it was one of the most powerful ships in the fleet. 

Presently, the _Paladin_ was ferrying the Brass around. Things were really moving quickly for the peace treaty signing in two months' time. When the time came, the _Paladin_ and the _Enterprise_ would be escorted into Romulan space, through the Neutral Zone and all the way to Romulus, the homeworld of the Romulans. Then, all of the Brass would be aboard the _Enterprise_, including the President of the United Federation of Planets. Tradition dictated that such a historic document should be signed on the Flagship of the fleet. 

"All moorings secured. All gangways, locked on and pressurized." reported Nikctalos. "Wait..." 

"What's wrong?" said Barnabas as he walked over to Nikctalos at Ops. 

"Security teams have taken position at all exterior gangways. No order for such activity has been given by Acting Captain Picard or yourself, Commander Cole." informed the Borg. 

"What's going on?" Cole thought aloud. 

"I think this has something to do with our new Chief of Security," said Jack. The turbolift door hissed open and Ensign Stone walked onto the bridge. 

"Captain, Commander..." Stone began. His face was covered in perspiration. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but has anyone seen Lieutenant Konnu, or Ensign Hickock today? I've looked all over the ship, and I found their communicators on the Lieutenant's desk, in Security." 

Barnabas shot Picard a blank look. Jack turned towards Stone to reply. "Sorry, Ensign. The Chief of Security is probably hard at work someplace where he doesn't need interruptions. If he needs you he'll most likely come for you. Can you tell us why security teams are in place at all of the gangways to the Starbase?" asked Jack. 

"uh.. Sorry Captain. When we all showed up this morning in Security. Our orders of the day were already posted. Searching for contraband at all exits was on the list of things to do..." answered Stone. "Permission to be dismissed Captain? The new shuttle is coming over shortly, and I have to do a flight check on it." 

"Very well. Please tell us when Lieutenant Konnu wants to search the ship and interrogate us all." Jack quipped. She never liked being in the dark about anything. 

Stone was almost at the turbolift when Maverint spoke. "Captain, may I inspect the shuttle?" asked Maverint. 

"May I ask why?" said the Captain. 

"It's alright Lieutenant Slike... uh, I can take care of it." stumbled Stone. 

"No, I insist. I think that if the shuttles were inspected more frequently by the people who have to fly them, problems might be picked up better than by a regular sensors scan. No offense, Ensign, but Security officers don't fly shuttles, I do. Martinez did," said Maverint. 

Konnu was right. The reference to Martinez struck home with the Captain. It was imperative that Maverint was the first person to look at the shuttle, but Picard did not know that. 

"Ensign, we have to give Mr. Slike something to do now that we're docked for awhile. Go about your other duties Mr. Stone. Maverint, go look at your shuttle," decreed Jack. 

Maverint followed Stone into the Turbolift. Jack sighed. When was she going to find out what was happening? 

A beep from Salek's position. "Captain, a message for you from Admiral Hethor," reported Salek. 

"In my ready room please." said Jack. What could the Admiral want now? 

* * * 

Jack sat down at her ready room's desk. How long would she be able to remain on this side of the desk? Would she be the Captain of the _Enterprise_ when it pulled out of the Starbase? Admiral Hethor would have the answers to those questions. It was still thirty minutes away from the Admiral's original meeting scheduled for 1300 hours. What could he want now? Jack accessed the terminal on her desk. 

"Once more Commander, greetings." began the Admiral. 

"Hello Admiral. Do you want to begin the crew review early?" asked Jack. 

"Anxious you are." Jack thought she saw a smile trickle from the Catian Admiral's mouth. "1300 hours is our meeting scheduled. Deviate from schedule will we not. Unexpectedly some free time have I found. Never before have I seen a Class-Nova Starship." 

"I see... You want the nickel tour of the only active Nova Class starship." Jack was somewhat relieved. "I am prepared to meet you at Gangway-2, for your visit." 

"Much thanks, Commander. Awaiting you will I be. Hethor out..." 

The display screen flickered into blackness. Picard got up from her seat and looked out the window. The replacement shuttle `Kepler' was flying to the shuttle bay. Off in the distance, an old Excelsior class starship was being scuttled. Jack noticed two of the workers in their EVA suits begin to move towards the _Enterprise_. Curious... 

Suddenly, Jack remembered about the security teams in place at all of the Gangways... Some welcome the Admiral would receive... getting frisked as he came aboard! She hurriedly left the ready room and made for Gangway-2. 

* * * 

Maverint cast a sideways glance at Ensign Stone. The man was sweating as if he were a raincloud. His uniform was practically soaked. The turbolift stopped one deck above the shuttlebay. Stone quickly moved out of the transportation device. Maverint noticed an oddly shaped bulge underneath the back of Stone's tunic. The doors hissed shut and Maverint continued down one deck to the shuttlebay. 

As Slike entered the shuttlebay, the door-hatch on the new shuttle, `Kepler' opened and the pilot walked out. The pilot from the Starbase gave Maverint a scrutinous look. The man walked to a small lift and rode it up to the control booth which overlooked the shuttlebay. Strangely, the windows of the control booth had been polarized. Slike could only make out a few shadowy forms moving around in the booth... about six or seven. Hadn't Konnu mentioned something about nine or ten possible suspects? Maverint silently wondered where Konnu was. He walked into the shuttle and closed the hatch. 

As soon as the hatch had shut, Maverint walked into the cockpit area and began to scan the craft with his tricorder. He passed the device over the pilot and copilot seats. Nothing. He moved towards the back of the shuttle. The tricorder beeped a few notes. Maverint passed the scanning tricorder over the passenger benches. The tricorder bleated out a confused symphony of beeping and shrieking. Maverint pushed back the starboard seat to access the storage area which should contain survival gear. Instead of enviroment suits, medical kits and ration packs, there were dozens of vials of U.T.E. suspended in small racks. Maverint's eyes widened... there was at least 3 Mega-Credits worth of UTE in this shuttle! 

He double checked to make sure the Tricorder was recording all of this. Maverint picked up a vial of UTE. The substance looked like Mercury. It was silvery, opaque... like a tiny mirror. Maverint regarded himself in the liquid. Suddenly, he noticed a figure moving in the liquid's relfective surface... There was a person behind him! 

Mav wheeled around and hurled the vial into the assailant's face. The woman shrieked in pain as shards of glass splintered into her eyes. The blonde-haired woman was clad in an EVA suit. Maverint noticed that she had been hiding in the storage area on the port side of the shuttle. 

The woman was on the floor grasping her face. Maverint picked up her weapon, a stun phaser. Thinking quickly, Maverint stunned the woman with the weakly powered phaser. 

* * * 

Konnu stared into the shuttle bay. Through the visor of his EVA suit's helmet he could see a person exit the shuttle that Maverint had entered. That person was also wearing an EVA suit. The mystery person's helmet was polarized, his, or her identity a secret. 

This was not good. Maverint had entered the shuttle, then five people had come down from the control booth to surrond the shuttle's hatch. They were clearly brandishing weapons. To add to the mayhem, this mystery person in an EVA suit had appeared... What had happened to Maverint? Konnu saw one of the five that had descended from the control booth approach the mystery person. The person, obviously from the science division due to his blue and black tunic, offered a small case to the EVA person. The EVA person took the case and made for the still open hangar door. Suddenly a man in a yellow and black tunic began pointing at the EVA person. It was Ensign Stone! 

Without warning, the EVA person threw the case into the face of the man who had originally offered the case to him, and skillfully shot two of the other people on the deck. The EVA person then ignited the thrusters on the EVA suit and flew across the deck and behind a pile of heavy cargo containers, all the while the other persons were firing at him. 

Konnu gave the signal to Hickock who was also in an EVA suit not more than 5 metres from Konnu. Together, they rocketed towards the shuttle bay. 

Konnu hit the deck of the shuttle bay and rolled. when he came out of the roll he fired his phaser on heavy stun and nailed the fourth attacker on the deck. The Klingon saw the fifth person fire and hit Hickock in the arm. Konnu growled an ancestral war cry and fired at the fifth person. His shot, combined with the shot from the wounded Hickock threw the remaining attacker into the wall, and after a loud cracking noise, the attacker fell limp to the floor. 

Konnu threw off his helmet and ran to Hickock. "Are you hit bad?" asked Konnu. 

"I'll make it, Chief. Just a burning phaser." said Ensign Hickock as she struggled to remove her helmet. "I think there's at least two more of them in the control booth..." 

Konnu looked up and saw Stone and the shuttle pilot taking aim with their phasers. Three phaser shots hit the control booth, the resulting explosion sent razor sharp pieces of instrumentation flying into the shuttle pilot. The blast knocked Stone to the floor of the control booth. Konnu and Hickock looked towards a pile of cargo containers and saw that their attack was supplemented by Maverint. Slike ditched his EVA's helmet and walked towards the security officers. 

"Next time, tell me to look for assasins hidden onboard a shuttle loaded with narcotics!" yelled Maverint. 

"You whine too much!" growled Konnu. "Besides, that was no `assassin'. Judging from the stunner you took from the person, I'd say our unexpected friend was a courier. That case you were given..." Konnu retrieved the case and opened it. It was full of credit chips, and data crystals. "They pay for their drugs with credits and information. These data crystals most likely contain confidential information about the _Enterprise_." Konnu set the case down. 

"Alright, if I was supposed to be the `courier' why did they start shooting at me?" asked Maverint. 

"That's easy, sir," drawled Hickock. "You didn't open the case to inspect its contents. A courier would always check to see that the payment was there." 

Maverint nodded in agreement to Hickock's explanation. It made sense. You would want to know you were being paid 3,000,000 credits for the UTE. 

A bizarre laugh suddenly filled the shuttlebay. The three looked up to the control booth to see Stone drop something to the floor below. Stone turned and ran into the hallways, laughing like a maniac. Maverint dove and slid across the floor to where Stone's object had dropped. He fiddled with something, and then got up. He was holding Stone's phaser. Konnu and Hickock could tell from the way that the phaser was smoking that it had been set to overload. Maverint dropped the burnt-out phaser to the floor. 

Konnu turned to Hickock. "Get down to the security station. Sound red alert, and seal all of the gangways... deactivate all of the transporters... seal off the saucer section, and monitor Lt. Slike and myself." 

"Right away chief!" responded as Hickock ran ot of the shuttlebay clutching her wounded arm. 

"Monitor us? Where are we going Konnu?" Maverint nervously asked. 

"After Stone, of course." 

Slike and Konnu ignited the thrusters on their EVA suits and flew up and into the control booth. They then began to hunt for Stone. 

* * * 

"Sorry Admiral. Orders say every person entering or leaving the ship must be searched." Said Ensign Gerrold. He passed his tricorder over the protesting Admiral, just as Picard rounded the corner to meet the Admiral. 

"Alright, Admiral. You're clean sir." reported Ensign Gerrold. 

"Inform you of that myself, I could have. Hmmmph!" spat the Admiral. Catians really hated being scanned, it was against their religious beliefs. Admiral Hethor turned to Picard. "This indignity, the nature of which you will explain!" 

"My apologies Admiral. My security officer is currently involved in a sensitive investigation. This is only a routine precaution, I assure you." said Jack. 

"An affair internal presume I. Unbroken are laws at Starbase 643." stated the Admiral. Jack was somewhat shocked by the Admiral's implication that the 120,000 people on the Starbase were uncorruptable. 

"I will file a report to you, Admiral, as soon as I receive a report myself. Now if you will follow me, I will take you to the bridge." 

"Acceptable that is. Oh, Admiral Data, his greetings conveys. Visit you he would if he was not preoccupied extremely." 

"Well, maybe he might find some time for a visit. I haven't talked to the Admiral for quite some time." said Jack. They had left the gangway far behind and were coming to the turbolift. Suddenly, the hall was illuminated with the all too familiar glare of Red-Alert. The Klaxxons were blaring their usual song. A strange, laughing sound came from down the hall. 

* * * 

Konnu and Maverint had an easy time of following Stone. He was obviously bleeding. Maverint and Konnu rounded a corner and saw Stone running down the hall in front of them. they raised their weapons and fired. The heavy stun beams hit Stone in the back. There were no obvious effects. Stone continued running. Maverint threw the useless stun phaser to the floor. Konnu adjusted the power level on his phaser to setting 7. Setting 7 was the heaviest setting a Federation issue phaser could fire at while onboard a Starfleet ship. The phasers were all tied into the computer. A phaser could fire at full power, but its security protocol would have to be overridden by the Security office. Konnu hoped that Hickock would get to the Security station, and overide his phaser. 

Suddenly, Red alert was initiated. The hall was bathed in a red glow, and hunters and hunted were serenaded by the klaxxons. Stone was obviously affected by his addiction to UTE. Konnu doubted if setting 7 would get to Stone. Konnu fired. His beam hit Stone in the back of the head. Stone flew to the floor, but did not stay there long. The crazed Ensign quickly got up and drew a strange looking weapon from the back of his tunic. Maverint recognized the weapon, and kicked Konnu into a doorway, and threw himself into a doorway on the other side of the hall. Four loud shots rang out, as four bullets whizzed by the spot where the Klingon and his human friend had been standing only a moment before. It was obvious, by the noise, and increased range that Stone was no longer using the silencer on his gun. 

Stone laughed and turned down another hall. Konnu and Maverint gave chase. Suddenly there was shouting and a general commotion around the corner where Stone had gone. Konnu and Mav leaped around the corner and found that Stone had bumped into Admiral Hethor and Jacqueline Picard. Stone had grabbed the Admiral and was holding his gun to the temple of the feline like humanoid's head. Picard picked herself off of the floor, and joined Konnu and Maverint. She decided that she would comment on the EVA suits later. 

"Let the Admiral go Stone!" shouted Picard. 

"No way! I want a warp shuttle... and... and 4 million credits... and the UTE from the shuttle!" 

"Alright, we'll play it your way Stone." Picard stalled. "But the Admiral's health isn't too good... take me as your hostage!" 

"Tough luck! Hehehe... The good old Admiral's health is gonna be real bad if ya don't start listening to me! Now call off your guard dog there!" yelled Stone as he motioned towards Konnu. 

"...Dog! Let the Admiral go Stone so I can rip your arms off and beat you to death with them!" roared Konnu. Stone fired his gun at Konnu and hit the Klingon in the knee. Konnu fell in a heap on the floor. 

"Awwwww.... gee did I hurt the mean little puppy? Hahahahah!" laughed Stone. "Surnal was gonna come to you, you Klingon dog.... but looks like you're gonna go to him! Hahahaha!" 

"Stone, let the Admiral go, please... no one else has to get hurt!" pleaded Picard. 

"Give me what I want by the count of three, or... BANG! Instant kitty litter! Heheheh!" 

"Stone! Don't!" shouted Jack. 

"One....." 

A strange beeping noise from Konnu. 

"Two!" shouted Stone. His finger tensed on the trigger. Suddenly, Konnu's phaser flew into Maverint's hand. Maverint took aim.... 

"Three!" yelled Maverint as he fired. His phaser blast hit Stone in the center of the forehead. Stone shrieked as flew into the air, glowed orange-red and then dissipated into atomic mist. 

Stone's gun fell steaming to the floor. Jack rushed to the Admiral, who was badly shaken. Maverint sighed as he picked up Stone's gun and placed it into a utility pocket in his EVA suit. Then Mav looked at Konnu's phaser. Setting 16. A maximum power phaser shot that would have no problem dissolving 50 cubic metres of tritanium ore. Slike thanked the powers that be that his aim was true-- two centimetres to the right, and the whole deck would have smelt of burnt cat hair. 

Jack turned to Slike and Konnu. The Klingon was barely able to stand. 

"Lieutenant Slike, take Mr. Konnu down to sickbay, and remain there yourself. I will take the Admiral to the conference room, and come down in 10 minutes for a VERY GOOD explanation for all of this!" shouted Picard. She and the Admiral stormed away. 

"Do you need a hand?" asked Maverint. 

"I am fine. It is only a small cut. I can.. whoah!" Konnu promptly fell flat on his face. "Very well. You can help me." 

* * * 

Maverint and the wounded Konnu were almost at the Sickbay. 

"Do you think she's...angry?" asked Konnu. 

"What do you think?" replied Maverint. 

"She's mad." Konnu grunted. His knee was really banged up. "By the way, why `Three'?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You said `Three' before you shot Stone." 

"Well, it was a tense moment...." 

"`Three!' Hahahaha!" laughed Konnu. 

"You're just jealous because Klingons are too dense to think of things to say in... I hope they have to cut your leg off!" 

"NO! They wouldn't!" For a moment, Konnu almost thought that his leg would be amputated, but then he realized Maverint was only getting back at him. "`Three'!" 

"Hack-Hack!" 

"`Three'! Haw-haw-haw!!!" 

"Hey! We could have tlhIngan'uS* for dinner tonight!" 

"The meat would be too tough for your weak human jaws to chew!" laughed Konnu. 

Dr. N'dok turned in surprise from attending Ensign Hickock's arm as Konnu and Maverint entered the Sickbay laughing hysterically. 

_* tlhIngan'uS is Klingon for `leg of Klingon'. -Author._

* * * 

From: Maverint Slike 

Maverint bid his friend Konnu goodbye, as his slight injuries allowed him to leave the sickbay soon after a simple inspection by the good doctor. Maverint snickered to himself thinking back on his comment to Konnu and his friend's surprisingly good natured reaction to it. 

"I never thought he'd be one to laugh at himself like that..." Mav smiled to himself as he walked down the corridor on his way back to his quarters. 

The doors to Maverint's quarters hissed open and he walked through into the living area. Mav threw himself down into his easy chair, snickering just a little more, letting his arms and legs relax and fall over the sides of the chair. His laughter subsided quickly, but Maverint still felt the rush of adrenalin through his system. Immediately a trip to play his custom holodeck program popped into his mind... 

* * * 

While Maverint was growing up, his father had made sure his son had been given a taste of everything life had to offer. He would take Mav to play sports, out to listen to classical music in the grand halls in their colony, and any other culturally enriching activity he could expose Maverint to. Maverint grew to appreciate the arts and develop the desire to try as hard as he could at everything he tried, but of all the goings-on in Maverint's early life, he had only one great fascination. 

Maverint's father was an avid collector and part-time practitioner in the use of weapons and his collection was something fantastical to Mav. Among his father's vast collection could be found swords and knives used in some of the greatest assassinations in recorded history, as well as firearms that had brought peace, or war, to worlds. Some of the pieces dated back as far as the early twentieth century, but there was one piece in particular that captured Maverint's attention. 

Maverint's favourite piece was an old Mark I Phaser Rifle, according to his father to have been used by the famous Captain James Tiberius Kirk on the planet Delta Vega. Seeing his son's interest piqued by something, even if it was something as questionable to Mav's mother as weaponry, he didn't discourage it, knowing the value of being able to defend oneself in the depths of space. Maverint's father agreed to teach his son the use of the weapons when he proved he could handle the responsibility. Maverint thought that everyone had one thing that they were the best at, and he decided that he was going to be the best phaser marksman in the quadrant... to start. 

After a couple years, and at an age that was 'far too young' as far as his mother was concerned, Maverint went for his first trip to a target range. The first time Maverint used a hand held phaser at that target range, his father could see his son had a truly uncommon 'eye' for it. With his father's encouragement and support, as well as years of self-imposed, relentless practice and entering sharp-shooting competitions, Maverint earned enough trophies to start a collection of his own. 

After his marriage to Kate and subsequent appointment to the _Enterprise_, Maverint only kept with him the Mark VII Phaser Rifle his father gave him when he graduated the academy, leaving his collection of markmen phasers and trophies in his room at home for his father to take care of... and proudly show off to his friends. 

Maverint jumped up from his chair and walked into the bedroom. He walked over to his dresser and depressed the lock release on the drawer, the drawer opening silently and the black metal case inside gathered the dim light of the room into a glint. Maverint moved the case over to the bed and opened it gently, like a monk would care for an age-old manuscript. Lifting the Mark VII Laser Rifle out of its moulded foam casing, he ran his usual checks over the frame for scratches as well as the inner mechanics for any problems. Satisfied with his diagnostics, Maverint changed into his exercise suit and shortly ended up standing in front of the com panel for Holodeck 5. 

"Computer, load program Slike 1." Maverint said quickly, almost tripping over the words in his rush. 

"Program loaded. Override for grav coils required." 

"Personal override code 8852." 

"Personal override code accepted. Adjusting internal holodeck grav coils simulate 1/6 normal gravity..." A few seconds passed. "Enter when ready." 

Maverint stepped in front of the doors as they opened, walked through the arch and stepped up to the ceiling... 

Maverint turned around in the air as the holodeck doors shut behind him. He had discovered the workout of his original program had become too boring with just the standard 'run-around-pick-them- off' style program locked into the computer memory. So Maverint engineered his own program designed around the jungle-like vegetation of Ordan but with the gravitatonal pull of the earth's moon. Having the backlash of the rifle to deal with, albeit very small but enough in the reduced gravity to push him forcefully backwards, helped to increase the demands of his agility and aim when dealing with the holographic monsters he had borrowed from his friend Konnu's library of Klingon mythology. 

Time never had a meaning to Maverint when he got really involved with the program. There was always another target to be had... all it had to do was pop up. Sometimes his obsession with his 'sport' would overshadow his conscience as to what he should be doing instead of practicing with his rifle. 

After what seemed to Maverint to be only about 20 minutes, but was in reality an hour and a half, the holodeck com beeped and Kate's voice carried through the holodeck. "Maverint? Are you there?" 

Maverint took the butt end of his rifle and thrust it into the dargos' stomach, or at least where its stomach would be if it had the same organization of organs as a human, turned, ran a step then jumped into the air. The dargos had just started to run on the ground after him, giving its screeching growl which still gave Mav a chill when he heard it. Mav twisted his body sideways in the air so he could get a shot off and fired his rifle after getting a 2 second glance backwards at the creature's position. The beam hit the creature square between the eyes seconds before Maverint slammed backwards into an Ganler tree and floated gently back to the floor. 

"No dear, of course not. I'll be right out..." Maverint panted as his feet settled on the 'floor'. "Arch." 

The door appeared a few feet away from him and he walked out into the corridor, still panting a little and smacking his lips, trying to get some moisture down his throat. "Computer, store program and discontinue." 

Kate stood in the middle of the corridor with her arms crossed, still in her blue medical duty uniform, her long brown hair down around her shoulders. She was tapping her boot on the floor slightly to give the impression of motherly impatience, her eyes glittered and her lips puckered when she talked. 

"Maverint Slike, you look like hell." she said in a stern motherly voice, a smirk now on her lips. 

"Gee, sorry Mom..." he replied. 

"My poor baby..." Kate said, giving Mav a hug. "Let's go back to quarters and relax." 

"I was relaxing..." Maverint said a little indignantly, but wisely understanding his wife wanted some time together. 

"So what happened to you today?" Kate asked as they walked slowly down the hall hand in hand. 

Maverint turned his head, looked at her and smiled. "How much time before your next shift?" 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

"Where is Lt. Slike?" asked Jack. 

Konnu was sitting on one of the examining tables, having his wounded knee cleansed and dermasealed. He looked up at her blankly. "He was discharged, Captain. His injuries were minor." 

"Of that I am quite aware, Mr. Konnu. However, in his enthusiasm to return to duty, he has forgotten the minor detail that I wished him to be present for this meeting." 

Konnu looked grim. "Then I owe you an apology, Captain. I should have prevented him from leaving, but the matter had escaped my memory as well." 

He paused, and Jack waited for the inevitable excuses: "We had a lot to think about... so much excitement... he needed to blow off some steam... his wife was worried about him..." But the excuses didn't come. Just that simple acknowledgement of guilt, that simple apology. 

Jack was impressed. She liked that in an officer. She didn't need them to think up excuses to make to her; she could think up excuses for them herself if she felt like it. Right now, despite the fact that she was officially annoyed, she was unofficially pleased with them both. Except for this little matter of forgetting a meeting with one's Captain, which wasn't something that should be let slip. 

Well, she would deal with that later. "Mr. Konnu, it seems to me that now is not the time to have our little talk. I will give you sufficient time to be properly treated and for Mr. Slike to return from wherever he might be at the moment. At 1100 hours I will see you both in my Ready Room. Is that understood?" 

"Perfectly, Captain," rumbled Konnu. 

"Good." She turned on her heel and left. 

* * * 

"To _intolerable_ indignities absolutely subjected have been I." Hethor was literally bristling, and his speech was even more torturously backward than usual; he was clearly more agitated than he knew how to deal with. Jack helped him into the most comfortable chair she could find and breathed a silent prayer before replying in her calmest voice: 

"I can only offer you my sincere apology, Admiral. I myself was not aware of the seriousness of the investigation which my Acting Chief of Security was conducting with the help of Lt. Slike. Had I known of the danger, I would never have brought you to the _Enterprise_. May I get you some tea?" 

Hethor's yellow eyes narrowed to slits. "Think you that this problem solved will be by tea?" 

"No, but I could certainly use a cup to calm my nerves." Jack turned to the replicator. In seconds a familiar glass mug materialized; she cupped it in her hands and breathed in the faint, fragrant aroma, feeling her taut muscles beginning to unwind. She took the chair across from Hethor and put the cup down between them on the table. 

"Lt. Konnu is only newly arrived on the _Enterprise_," she said. "When he has come to know me and my crew better, he will realize that there are some of us above suspicion. However, he did not violate Starfleet regulations in his investigation: he was obliged to suspect everyone." 

"Except Lt. Slike." 

"And Dr. N'Dok, and Ensign Hickock. One can hardly blame Konnu for trusting Slike; they are close and long time friends. And in taking Dr. N'Dok into his confidence, he had the approval of a superior officer. His selection of Ensign Hickock showed commendable discernment, also. She performed excellently in the crisis." 

"Aware of all that I am," said Hethor, a little snappishly, but he did not look quite as displeased as he had before, and his fur was beginning to lie flat again. 

"And," said Jack, "It is a very good thing Mr. Konnu brought Mr. Slike into the matter, or you and I would very likely not be sitting here arguing about it." 

Hethor lifted one whiskery brow. "Excellent shot was he." Then he frowned again and said, "But use of violence do I not approve." 

"Nor do I, Admiral," said Jack. "Nevertheless, at times it is regrettably necessary." She glanced down at the faint burn-scars on her hands. "If you will excuse me, sir, I must attend a brief meeting with Mr. Konnu and Mr. Slike. If you wish to continue your tour of the _Enterprise_, I would be happy to have Lieutenant Commander Cole oblige you--" 

Hethor held up one elegant hand. "Unnecessary will be, Captain. To your business will I leave you, and to Starbase will return. Expecting you I will be at the appointed time." 

Jack nodded. "I will be there, Admiral." 

* * * 

"...and next time, Lieutenants, I expect you to report any suspicious activity to me _immediately_. I realize that you were following procedure, but in future I would appreciate it if you did _not_ follow procedure where I am concerned. By keeping me in the dark, you created an extremely dangerous situation. Admiral Hethor could very well have lost his life this afternoon, and if he had, the two of you would have been court-marshalled. Am I understood?" 

"Understood, Captain," said Konnu and Slike in unison. 

"You performed commendably in your investigation of Lt. Surnal's murder, and now that I have had the full story, I am not unaware of the debt the _Enterprise_ owes to your quick thinking. However, there are times when youthful exuberance can be dangerous. I would advise you to curb it." Jack tried not to smile at the irony of the lecture: she wasn't that much older than Konnu and Slike herself. 

"You are dismissed, gentlemen." The Lieutenants filed silently out the door, outwardly meek, but as the door closed Jack saw Maverint jab Konnu in the ribs. She sighed. Those two were a good team, but they'd also be trouble, she knew it. 

Now if only she could get over that wretched cross- examination... 

* * * 

From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

"You were ill advised to take leave of the sickbay so quickly, my friend." Konnu said as he and Maverint walked across the bridge to the turbolift. 

"The Captain was awfully good hearted about it. Captain Faeren would have had my head if I had wandered off like that aboard the _Valiant_." Maverint replied. 

The doors to the bridge hissed shut behind them. 

"Deck 12." 

"Yes, you are correct." 

"About what?" 

"The Captain would have had your head... on a platter." 

"Hehehe. I know. Of course, you know the _Valiant_ didn't have holodecks to easily draw your mind off things..." Maverint said. 

The two just stood there for a time as the lift passed each deck, the interdeck tube lights flashing past the tube window in a steady rhythm. Konnu looked up from the floor to face Maverint. 

"In the long time I have known you, I have never seen you act so recklessly in the face of duty. It is... disturbing." 

Maverint turned his head to look at Konnu from his inspection of the turbolift com panel. "I assure you, it was completely unintentional. My mind has just been really clouded by a lot of things lately." 

"Practicing your aim was obviously one of them." 

"Yes, albeit one of the lesser important ones..." Maverint trailed off. "'Reckless in the face of duty?'" he asked, pretending to sound offended. "All I did was forget a debriefing." 

Konnu just looked at him... and they both smirked. 

* * *

_Continued in Episode Six: "The Cat's Eye"_


	6. The Cat's Eye

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

* * *

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #6: "The Cat's Eye" 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS: Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard...........Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Lt. Commander Barnabas Cole................Warren Postma  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Lt. (JG) Konnu.............................Russ Foubert  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


* * *

From: Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard 

Jack walked into Admiral Hethor's office at 1300 hours feeling as though she had a brick wedged halfway up her diaphragm. As she took the seat the Admiral offered her she glanced briefly around the room, trying to calm her nerves by familiarizing herself with the setting of this preliminary trial. 

Hethor's office was richly but not extravagantly appointed, with elegant mahogany furnishings, brass fixtures, and draperies of red velvet bound back with golden cord. The overall mood was refreshingly archaic, and certainly dignified enough to suit one of Starfleet's most respected Admirals. A Caitian claw-painting, delicately drawn and faintly reminiscent of Japanese art, hung on the opposite wall in a frame too heavy for its ethereal beauty. The aesthetic error gave her an obscure sense of comfort. 

Hethor gave a discreet cough; Jack turned instantly to face him. "I am at your service, Admiral," she said. 

"Indeed," said Hethor. "As well you know, instructed you were to bring immediately to this Starbase the _Enterprise_ upon departure of Captain Lester. Informed you were that another Captain would for you be waiting here." 

"Yes." She felt numb. Was it really going to be this simple? Everything going ahead just as planned? Hadn't the Borg conflict meant anything to them? She should have known better than to hope they'd give her the _Enterprise_. She wasn't even experienced enough as a First Officer to really deserve her post; how could she expect to be Captain of the flagship of the Federation? It had been a crazy dream from the beginning. 

"All you have to say is that?" said Hethor, interrupting her thoughts. He seemed surprised. 

"I don't know what else I can say," she replied quietly. "Your decision is law in this matter, and I have no wish to be insubordinate." 

Hethor waved that aside. "Insubordinate--pah. What think you, Jacqueline Picard?" 

"You're giving me liberty to speak freely?" 

"Yes." 

Jack frowned. Why was he doing this? Was he playing with her, like a cat with a mouse? Or did she really have a chance? 

"Frown not. Talk." Hethor was insistent. She had no choice but to believe him. She took a deep breath. 

"Admiral, I love the _Enterprise_. The crew and I work well together--have done so since the beginning. They respond well to me, and I believe I have managed to earn their respect, especially after the Borg conflict." 

"Have you." 

"I cannot ultimately speak for them, and it is possible that they harbor reservations I have not been able to detect. But I have confidence that were you to interview them personally, they would support me." 

"Arrogance," rumbled Hethor. 

"No," said Jack. "Confidence that my crew are honest and loyal members of Starfleet, and that if they had qualms about my leadership they would already have expressed it to me--or to you." 

"How do you know they have not?" 

He was bluffing. At least she hoped he was. "I don't believe that they have, sir." 

Hethor's yellow eyes held hers for a long moment. Then he said, "They have not. But," and he held up a hand, "they may do so yet. To interview them personally I do intend, and to insist that they freely speak I intend also." 

"Admiral," said Jack. "Are you telling me there's a chance I might be promoted to full Captain? Because if there's not, you don't need to do this. I will obey your orders." 

"Telling you I am not anything," said Hethor sharply. "Obey my orders, will you? Begin now." 

Jack was silent. 

"Full examination of your profile in every area will tomorrow begin," Hethor told her. "The services of your Counsellor I will require for the psychological analysis." 

"T'Pryn?" Jack was surprised. "But she is also under review." 

"Yes. But with you has had opportunity to work, and will better know you than Counsellor of this Starbase." 

"And she's Vulcan," said Jack. 

"And will not be swayed by emotion." 

"She is undertaking an experiment--" 

"Aware of that I am. Nevertheless when commanded she will be capable of Vulcan discipline. If she is not, review you will _both_ fail." Hethor turned away dismissively. "Report to me you will at 0900 hours tomorrow." 

"Yes, Admiral," said Jack. 

* * * 

From: Lt. (JG) Konnu 

1800 hours, KDF vessel _Pach'Iw_ Docked at Federation Starbase 643. 

"More scars brother? Maybe you aren't cut out for this line of work!" rumbled Captain Krador. Konnu chuckled and eased himself into a seat behind a battered table. Krador took two mugs of Greg- th from his room's replicator, and offered one to his brother. Konnu took the mug and drank deeply. 

"I do not think Federation ships are very safe, Krador. As you have noticed, I haven't been there for a week and I've already been wounded." Konnu offers a metal cane to Krador. "The doctor tells me that I must walk with this device for a week." 

"HAHAHAHAAH! A toothpick! You must walk with a toothpick!" Krador bites the cane in half and throws the pieces to the floor. "If you need something to walk with..." Krador walked over to a trunk and opened its heavy lid. He pulled out an ornate cane, or walking stick, and tossed it to Konnu. The stick was made from a leg bone of some rather large carnivore, and it was topped by the ornate skull of some other dangerous creature. By Klingon standards, it was a work of art. 

"Where did you get this?" asked Konnu. 

"It belonged to our father. I do not know where he got it from. It supposedly once belonged to Chancellor Gorkin. Our great-grandfather knew Gorkin..." 

"Why would I want anything from Kurn? `Father' would have disowned me in another week, if he hadn't been killed!" spat Konnu. 

"You do not know how Kurn felt about your decision to serve Starfleet!" growled Krador. "He was honoured to have a son serve with such distinction. And I always hated him for that..." 

"Bah... you were just jealous Krador!" roared Konnu. 

"Jealous! I have my own ship! Where is your mighty fleet Konnu?" 

"Someday... Someday I will have my own ship you reeking bag of J'ithlP!" 

"HAH! The Federation garbage scow _Wimp_." The two Klingons polished off their mugs, and stared at one another for a few minutes. Then they suddenly started to laugh with each other. Krador and Konnu were the best of brothers, as far as Klingons went. Their arguments lasted as long as a Romulan in a Klingon Tavern. 

"I will see that your belongings are transferred to your ship Konnu. By the way, has Starfleet commended your Captain yet? She is a fine warrior!" asked Krador. 

"Commended! Hah! It is as if she had betrayed the Great Alliance itself! She and half of the senior officers have been put on review!" 

"If the _Enterprise_ was a Klingon ship, your Captain would now be a commodore! I will speak with this Admiral Hethor... and then if speaking does not work, breaking an arm might." 

Suddenly a beeping noise emanated from the door. Krador barked at the noise and the doors opened. A Klingon warrior stood with Maverint and Kate. 

"How did you like your tour of the ship?" asked Krador. 

Maverint and Kate looked at each other and then looked at Krador. 

"Umm..." started Maverint 

"...Great! Just a lovely ship, don't you think Mav?" added Kate. 

"Nice ship you have here...." lied Maverint. 

* * * 

From: Maverint Slike 

"Wasn't that fun?" Maverint said as he and Kate walked out of the transporter room aboard the _Enterprise_. 

"Are you being sarcastic?" she replied smiling. 

"Maybe a little. Still, the technology aboard the _Pach'Iw_ is really something though, isn't it?" 

"If you say so... I was more interested in the reaction we got from a lot of the crew. You'd think they'd never seen a married couple before." 

"They probably haven't... at least not one as young as us. At our age, most Klingons are still making a name for themselves. A life mate is one of the last things on their minds." 

"True." 

The conversation died instantly as Mav and Kate continued to walk down the corridors. Maverint found it rather odd that his wife had nothing to say. At most times, it proved to take a lot of patience waiting for Kate to stop talking. This silence put Maverint on edge a little, not knowing what to expect. So he started to talk about the first thing that came into his mind... 

"You know, I've never thought much about the name "mess hall" until I visited a Klingon ship. How could we have known that a human colloquialism would suit another race better than it suits our own?" 

"Really..." Kate replied, now not even a hint of feeling in her voice. Maverint turned his head to look at her. Her face was impassive. Her eyes stared down at the floor. From the way she was acting, it was like she was a walking zombie. 

"All right." Maverint said, stopping in the middle of the hall and grabbing Kate by the arm. He had to know what was bothering her before he started to worry about what was worrying her and creating an even bigger problem. She turned to face him but kept her eyes down. "What's going on? You've been really close-mouthed lately and its really starting to give me the creeps..." 

Kate smiled lightly at Mav's quip, but kept her eyes from meeting his. "I'm worried." she said. 

"Why?" 

She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts, then just threw reasoning to the wind. "You're taking too many chances Mav!" she said, darting her eyes up to meet his with a sharp glare. "When I married you, I knew you were headstrong and adventurous, but things have really been spiraling since we came aboard the _Enterprise_. You jumped at the chance to rush out and face the Borg, then watched as the shuttle that was with you got cut to ribbons just a short distance away! Then you go running around the ship with Konnu and nearly get disentigrated by a madman shot up with UTE! Are you trying to give me a heart attack, you big jerk?! What's next?!" she said, giving him a light shot in the gut.

Maverint chuckled just a little to himself as he straightened up. Ferocity was one of her most alluring traits. "I'm supposed to know? This is a starship! We both knew the kind of things that have happened aboard deep space starships but we chose to accept positions on the _Enterprise_ because it kept us together and let us both be near the stars. What more could we have asked for?" 

"I don't know... I just worry about something happening to you. Life with the stars would be nothing without you." 

"Eeuuhhh! Don't go get all soppy on me now!" Mav said, feigning a boyish repugnance. Kate didn't smile but just looked at him. "Come on... Risk taking comes with the uniform. It's what gives this existence purpose for me..." 

"What about me?" she said. 

Maverint pondered that phrase. What about Kate? What consideration had she been when the call to duty had come to rescue comrades on the borg ship? Facing off against a madman armed with a weapon which could instantaneously wipe all trace of his existence out in a nanosecond? None, he thought solemnly. None at all. Boyish exuberance and the thrill of the game had blinded him to the one thing that should have meant the most to him. 

"What would you have me do? Resign my post? Become a cabin husband?" 

At this she smiled. "No! Neither of us could stand that! I just want you to think more before you act. Consider what you're getting into more..." 

"I will... but you know, life is short enough without worrying yourself over what tomorrow will bring..." Mav said, putting his arm around Kate and began walking down the corridor again. 

"Don't you mean LONG enough?" 

"Sure. Whatever you say..." 

* * * 

From: Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard 

When Jack arrived at Admiral Hethor's office at precisely 0900 hours the next day, she found a note on his desk directing her to room 4076-B for a full psychological evaluation. She was beginning to feel insulted. Hethor was treating her like some errant schoolgirl, not a fully commissioned Starfleet officer. Was it her youth he despised? Or the fact that she was a woman? Was he being extra hard on her just because Jean-Luc Picard was her father? 

Maybe Jack was just getting thin-skinned. She picked up the note with a sigh and headed out the door. 

The evaluation room turned out to be on the other side of the Starbase, down the end of a narrow hallway that looked more like a service chute than an access corridor. No, she was not being paranoid; Hethor had it in for her. The door opened, and she found herself looking in at a small round space, devoid of any furniture save for two chairs and a psych testing console. It was not in the least welcoming; certainly not designed, as any sensible evaluation room would be, to put its occupants at ease. She looked over to the far side of the room and saw T'Pryn standing there. 

"Welcome," said T'Pryn. She motioned to a chair with one slender hand. Jack sat down, and the Vulcan woman seated herself in the chair opposite. 

"We are both being evaluated, you and I," said T'Pryn. "In a sense, that makes us opponnents." 

"No," said Jack, "it doesn't." 

"Why do you say that?" 

Apparently the evaluation had already begun. She replied cautiously, "We are responsible to fulfill our duties as Starfleet officers. In order to be a good Counsellor, you must search out and reveal to the Admiral any dangerous psychological weaknesses you might find in me. To conceal such a weakness, even for the sake of friendship, would not be either kind or...logical." 

T'Pryn smiled. "Do you then believe that it is best for you to know the truth about yourself, even if it is painful for you to hear it?" 

"Yes." 

"Even if there should be serious consequences?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"Because if I know what is wrong with me, then I know where I must change, where I must grow." 

T'Pryn nodded. "What if Starfleet should deem a weakness something which you consider to a strength?" 

"Are you asking me whether I think it is possible for Starfleet to be wrong?" 

"Perhaps I am asking you whether you think it is possible for _you_ to be wrong." 

"If," said Jack carefully, "the point on which we disagree is simply a matter of my personal opinion, then I cannot afford to be dogmatic. Unless I have empirical evidence, of course, in which case it wouldn't be just my opinion." 

"And if you feel that you do have empirical evidence to support your case, but Starfleet disagrees?" 

"I would make a formal appeal." 

"And if the appeal is rejected?" 

"It would depend on what I'm appealing. I might have to leave Starfleet." 

"What would be so important to you that you would be willing to risk your career?" 

Jack took a deep breath. "Most likely a moral issue. I do believe in objective moral standards. I cannot violate those standards, even for Starfleet." 

"Cannot?" 

"Will not." 

T'Pryn turned to the computer console. "I have been reviewing your records." 

"Counsellor," said Jack. 

T'Pryn looked back at her and raised one black eyebrow in inquiry. 

"Do you think," Jack went on, "that my religious beliefs really have any bearing whatsoever on my performance as a Starfleet officer? Does this not strike you as a sort of ultra-modern witch hunt?" 

In her position T'Pryn couldn't possibly answer that, of course. She took the professional way out: "Do you feel yourself persecuted, then?" 

"I'm beginning to feel that way, yes." Jack folded her arms. "I am certainly willing to comply with Starfleet in any way necessary, and I have nothing to hide, but I really do wonder whether my personal convictions are any of Starfleet's business. If Starfleet is disposed to consider my faith--or anyone else's--a psychological weakness, then perhaps I'd better not be in Starfleet." It was probably the hardest thing she had ever said: her stomach was methodically tying itself in knots as she spoke. 

T'Pryn gazed steadily at her. "Then I take it this interview is over?" 

"It's over," said Jack. "You're a good Counsellor, T'Pryn. Any fool can see that. But if Admiral Hethor wants to know what I believe, he can ask me himself. I'm tired of being treated like a rat in a cage." She got to her feet and headed for the door, tasting frustration like dust in her throat. She wasn't angry-- there was no point. But she had definitely had enough of this, and it was high time that she made it known. 

"Goodbye, Captain," said T'Pryn quietly. 

* * * 

From: Counsellor T'Pryn 

"So left the interview she did," mused Hethor. "Unusual." 

"Not out of keeping with her character," said T'Pryn, sipping lightly at her green tea. "She has a deep-rooted dislike of psychological evaluation. In her entire Starfleet career she has only voluntarily gone to see one Counsellor, and the interview was abortive and inconclusive." 

"Proud she is." 

"That is a possibility, though given my present knowledge of her character, not a likely one. Her reserve is not unjustified. She is capable of quite satisfactory performance under stress levels which others find unacceptable, and her mental parameters are well-defined." 

"Stable." 

"Yes. She demonstrates a high capacity for objective appraisal and logical evaluation. Nor does she often act hastily." 

"Concerns have you any?" 

"She has a tendency to over-rationalize: 'thinking too precisely on the event', as Shakespeare described it. It will not be likely, however, to prevent her from acting swiftly in a crisis situation. Her response to the Borg crisis would seem to demonstrate that hypothesis." 

"And religious is she." Hethor's whiskers twitched. "Find I that disconcerting." 

"I do not believe she would call it _religious_," said T'Pryn. "If you will permit me, Admiral, under the same criteria, Vulcan mysticism is a form of religion. Those beliefs have not prevented Vulcans from distinguished service in Starfleet. However, Acting Captain Picard's beliefs are not mystical in nature, and conflicts may arise between her ideology and the aims of Starfleet which I cannot foresee." 

"Indeed," murmured Hethor. 

"There is a precedent, however," T'Pryn added. 

"More like her there are in Starfleet?" 

"A few. However, none are in high-ranking positions--with the exception of your own Chief Cyberneticist on this Starbase, Commander Gwyn Davies. I took the liberty of examining his record in the hope of anticipating any conflicts which might arise in the line of duty." 

"Conflicts were there?" 

"No significant difficulties as yet. However, I cannot be definite as to whether that trend will continue." 

"Knew I did not that Davies was one of those," muttered Hethor darkly, his yellow eyes gazing past her to the claw-painting on the office's far wall. 

T'Pryn remained silent, waiting him out. She felt that there were two layers to this conversation: one, the petty and superficial criticisms Hethor chose to voice; two, the true feelings and judgments he kept to himself. Given the sterling record of the half-Catian Admiral, it was exceedingly unlikely that his real personality bore any resemblance to the one he had so carefully presented to Jack and herself thus far. He appeared to be using a bluff of some sort, to see how they would respond to it. It was not, T'Pryn felt, the most logical approach to the situation at hand, but it would perhaps be effective just the same. She found herself curious as to his motives in the matter, but would not presume to guess at them without further information. 

"Dismissed you are," said Hethor, focusing on her. "Have you my thanks for your input." 

T'Pryn inclined her head in graceful acknowledgement, gathered up her long blue skirts, and glided out of the office. As the door hissed shut behind her she turned the corner and nearly collided with Jacqueline Picard, who was approaching Hethor's office with an expression of unusual determination on her fine-boned face. 

"I would not disturb him at the moment, were I you," said T'Pryn quietly. "I believe he is taking time to assimilate the information which I have provided him. To interrupt would perhaps be unwise, and a defeat of your purpose." 

Jack's blue eyes searched T'Pryn's face intently a moment, then the taut lines of her body relaxed. "Understood," she said. "Thank you, Counsellor." 

"I come to serve," said T'Pryn, slipped past her, and continued down the corridor. She allowed herself to be impressed by Jack's ready acquiescence. A Captain who would take her advice in small matters could be counted upon to take her advice in other, more important things as well. In light of that fact, she found herself hoping that Jacqueline Picard would indeed be her Captain for some time to come. After all, it was important for a Counsellor, even a Vulcan one, to feel useful. 

* * * 

From: Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies 

The moment he entered the laboratory, Tijo Sterling pounced on him and shoved a padd into his hands. "I've got the neuro-network down. Do you want to check it?" 

"Which unit is this for? The spider?" 

"You bet." 

He nodded and began to scrutinize the data on the padd, but Sterling kept hanging about and grinning. "Tijo, do you mind?" 

"Sorry." She backed off, but not far enough. He sighed and tried to pretend she wasn't there. 

The schematics looked all right. It wasn't easy coordinating the movements of a robot with eight legs, especially a sophisticated External Repair unit like this one, but she'd done a fair job. "Looks good," he said, handing the padd back to her. "Go ahead with the next phase. You can get Erhinn to help you." 

"Great. Thanks. Oh, hey, did you hear there's a Borg on the Starbase?" 

"A what?" 

"A Borg. You know, the oddball, the one that graduated from the Academy a few years back. Thought you might be interested." 

"Very much, but I doubt he'd be any more willing to let me take him apart than Admiral Data is." 

"Yeah, I know. But you could talk to the CMO on the _Enterprise_. He might have some juicy information for you." 

He raised a dubious eyebrow. "Perhaps. Well, go on with your work. I'll be in my office; I have some positrons to argue with." 

"Gotcha." She scampered off, clutching her precious schematics to her chest. He smiled at her youthful exuberance and headed into his office. 

He spent the next few hours trying variations on the positronic coding he'd developed for the Z-9000 security unit. It had inexplicably failed beta-testing last week and attacked a Starfleet officer. The woman had managed to shut off the unit, but not before it had knocked her down and broken a couple of her ribs. He didn't like that at all, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out how it had happened. And if he didn't know, nobody else in the Federation would either. He had a feeling even the famed Dr. Soong would have found this one a stumper. 

He stared at the computer screen until he could almost feel his brain drying up. This was crazy. He ought to have found the problem by now. Why couldn't he see it? 

"Gwyn." 

He looked up, to see Counsellor Sithril standing in the doorway. "Hello," he said. "What are you doing here?" Ordinarily he wouldn't have been so blunt, but the Counsellor would know what he was thinking anyway. Irdolians were even worse than Betazoids for that. 

"You need a holiday," she said. "Your mind is so tired I could feel it halfway across the station. I'd even go so far as to say you need a change, but a holiday will do to begin with. When was the last time you--oh. That long ago. Yes, well, with the Admiral's permission, I'm _ordering_ you to take a two-week leave of absence. No, don't even think about arguing with me. The security unit can wait." 

"For a Counsellor," observed Gwyn drily, "you can be one of the least merciful people I know. And the Admiral's in on this too? I give up. When, and where?" 

"It doesn't matter to you where, does it?" 

"Since I don't want to go at all, not really." 

"I'll make the arrangements." She turned, green silk billowing, and headed purposefully out the door. Then she stopped and turned back. "Yes, I know I'm infuriatingly meddlesome. But you'll thank me for it when this is over." 

"Irdolians are not endowed with the gift of prophecy," said Gwyn. "That much I _do_ know." 

She gave a half-annoyed, half-amused snort and left. 

"She's going to send me to Risa," Gwyn murmured as he touched the computer off. "Just to spite me." 

And the very next morning he found out he'd guessed right. 

* * * 

From: Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard 

Jack walked into her stateroom on the _Enterprise_ and flung herself down on the bed, pushing her face into the pillow. She was mentally and physically exhausted, stressed out like she'd never been before. 

And she wasn't the only one. After Admiral Hethor's gruelling week-long review, even the eternally composed T'Pryn had looked a little wild around the eyes. Nikctalos--well, with a Borg it was impossible to tell. Perhaps he didn't feel anything. But they'd been just as hard on him as they had been on Jack herself. Salek, on the other hand, had gotten away with nothing more than a polite interview, which made sense; there was no point in cross-examining a Romulan exchange officer, it was just bad protocol. Hethor had already ruled him fit to continue on as Tactical Officer. But as for the Admiral's view on Jack, Nikctalos and T'Pryn--nobody could even dare to guess. 

Jack's only hope was something T'Pryn had said a couple of days ago: that neither of them had seen the real Hethor yet, that this heavy-handed authority bit was just an act. Jack fervently prayed that might be so. She couldn't take this much longer. 

Too tired even to take off her uniform, she pulled the pillow over her head and sank into the merciful oblivion of sleep. 

* * * 

Bong. 

Bong. 

Bong bong bong bong bong bong bong bong-- 

Jack sat upright with a start as the sound of the doorbell finally registered. She still felt half-asleep, even though the readout by the bed said it was her usual waking time, and she'd had a good eight hours. Automatically she passed a hand over her hair and tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes before dredging her voice up from the bottom of her throat and saying, "Come." 

The door opened, revealing an unfamiliar Ensign. "Acting Captain Picard," he said respectfully, "Admiral Hethor requests your presence at the Main Conference Room in half an hour." 

Half an hour! That was hardly enough time to get herself looking presentable, let alone get mentally prepared for an important meeting. But there was no point in arguing. "Thank you, Ensign," she said. "Advise the Admiral I will be there at the appointed time." 

The young man nodded and stepped back; the door shut silently in front of him, leaving Jack alone in the half-darkness. "Lights on," she said, and dragged herself out of bed. 

"Half an hour," she muttered as she ran water in the basin and stared at her own white, stress-lined face in the mirror. "Heavenly Father--" 

She bent her head and splashed water into her eyes, trying to take the redness away. 

"--I have no idea what to do or say any more where Admiral Hethor is concerned--" 

She rubbed her face with the towel. 

"--but I know that You know what You're doing in all this--" 

Her hair was an unbelievable mess. She began to brush it methodically, trying to work out the tangles. 

"--even if I don't--" 

She pinned her hair back. It still looked awful, but it was the best she could manage with so little time. 

"--so please just show me what You want me to do--" 

Her uniform was all wrinkled. She'd have to put on a new one. She moved to the closet and began fingering through her clothes. 

"--and give me the strength to do it. Because," she finished as she pulled her other uniform out of the closet, "I don't have much strength left right now." 

She began unfastening her collar, then stopped, a weary grin spreading over her face. "'And He said to me,'" she quoted, "'"My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness."' I guess Admiral Hethor is _my_ 'thorn in the flesh'?" 

The silence yielded no answer, but she didn't need one. Her heart already felt lighter. Quickly she changed uniforms, ordered breakfast from the replicator, ate in haste and hurried out the door. If she set a smart pace, she'd make it to the conference room just in time. 

* * * 

As she walked into the huge hall--usually reserved for the most important diplomatic meetings--with its white marble floor and high-vaulted ceiling, she was startled to find so many eyes fixed upon her. Not only was her entire senior staff present, but the tiers on either side were filled with ranking officers. She even recognized some of them: Admiral Solok, from Nikctalos's old posting; Dr. Ajo, who'd taught her biology in the Academy; and one attractive dark-haired woman who looked strangely familiar--Good heavens! _Gabriele Lester_? 

As the women's eyes met, Lester acknowledged her former First Officer with a nod, but her expression remained dispassionate. Whatever had happened to Gabriele in the last few weeks, Jack realized, could not have been pleasant. The pips on her collar indicated a Commander's rank, for one thing, and she no longer wore the red of command, but a lab coat over medical blue. 

Jack was insanely curious to know what had happened to the ex- Captain of the _Enterprise_, but right now she had to worry about the fact that she was very likely to be ex-Captain herself. She forced herself to look forward, to approach the dais on which Admiral Hethor sat, his yellow eyes gazing into hers with an unfamiliar warmth. 

"Admiral," she said. 

"Commander Jacqueline Marie Picard of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_," he acknowledged formally--and with perfect grammar. "Please turn and face the assembly." 

Obediently, Jack turned, wondering if she were going mad. She stared down the length of the hall, while at least seventy pairs of eyes gazed back at her inquiringly. 

"Over the past week," said Hethor, "I have subjected Commander Picard and a select portion of her senior staff to numerous tests. Those who have witnessed my examination of the Starfleet officers involved have expressed concern that I was being unduly harsh, unreasonable, and unfair in my treatment of them. Those who know me well have in fact been exceedingly surprised by my behaviour over the past week, but I swore them to secrecy. I deemed it necessary to carry out my plan in order that it should be fully proved to the satisfaction of every Admiral in Starfleet that these officers have not only distinguished themselves in battle, but in every way fully earned the right to serve aboard the flagship of the Federation." 

"That's it," whispered Jack to herself. "I'm cracking up." 

She hadn't realized her voice would carry so well in the vaulted room; the words sounded clearly in the stillness that followed Hethor's speech, and laughter rippled through the audience. 

"Her dismay is well founded," said Hethor, and she could hear the amusement in his trilling voice. "I have been exceedingly hard on her. But it was necessary. The Captain of the _Enterprise_ must be no ordinary Captain. She must be capable not only of withstanding extreme stress, but of continuing to perform her duties at optimal level even while that stress remains. She must be rational, clear-headed, able both to give and receive orders, and loyal both to Starfleet and to her personal convictions. She must have the trust and respect of her senior officers. No human being is perfect, but a true Captain must strive for excellence in all that she does, while at the same time recognizing her own weaknesses and limitations. 

"It is my considered opinion, based upon the examination I have carried out over this past week--and may I mention that the full documentation of that review is available to anyone who wishes to see it--that Jacqueline Marie Picard is that Captain." 

Jack closed her eyes. This was insane. There was no way this could be happening. 

"With the authorization of Starfleet Headquarters," said the Admiral, "I hereby promote Jacqueline Picard to full Captain of the _Enterprise_. Jacqueline, please turn and face me." 

She turned numbly, automatically, and gazed up at Hethor as he rose from his chair, took a small box from the Lieutenant on his left, and walked down to meet her. He opened the box ceremoniously, and there, lying on a cushion of red velvet, was a golden pip. His long graceful fingers fastened it to her collar. 

"You may face the assembly, _Captain_ Picard," he said. 

Half-blind with tears of consummate relief, Jack turned and faced the crowd again, while applause echoed through the chamber. 

"In recognition of their performance under review," continued Hethor when the noise had subsided, "I would at this time also like to confirm Nikctalos D'pyrann, previously designated Borg Unit 889 349 246 345 001, in the rank of Lieutenant Commander and Operations Officer of the _Enterprise_, and Lieutenant Commander T'Pryn as Counsellor of the same. And, in recognition of valiant service in the battle against the Borg, I will also announce the promotion of Barnabas Cole to the rank of Commander, First Officer of the _Enterprise_, and of Lieutenant Junior Grade Konnu to full Lieutenant and Security Officer of the _Enterprise_." 

Jack watched smiles spread across the faces of her crew-- except for Barnabas, she noted with some concern--and replied with a shaky smile of her own. Even now that it was all over, she still felt like she'd been whipped. The last few weeks had taken more out of her than she thought she had to give. 

"This session," said Admiral Hethor, "is now at an end. I have somewhat more to say to Captain Picard before the _Enterprise_ leaves the Starbase, but I will contact her later. For now, I thank all present for their attendance and support. You are dismissed." 

To the sounds of renewed applause, the newly commended crew of the _Enterprise_ rose from their seats, inclined their heads to Hethor, and headed for the door. Jack brought up the rear, walking with carefully measured steps in case she fell over--she sure felt as though she might. 

But it was all right now. Everything was all right. 

* * * 

From: Capt. Jacqueline Picard 

"You really had me fooled," said Jack. 

Admiral Hethor bared his sharp teeth in a smile. "Indeed. You do understand why I did it, though, do you not?" 

"Yes. It's the little irritations, as well as the big issues, that can push someone over the edge--and in a Captain you can't afford that. I know what you were doing, but to be quite honest, Admiral, I can't say I like it." 

"No. I did not expect you would." Hethor leaned back in his chair. "However, it was necessary. Had I been less harsh in this review, other Admirals might have questioned my judgment in promoting you. It would not be good for you to go through your career hearing whispers behind your back--that was what brought down Gabriele Lester." 

Jack was silent. 

"And that brings me to the purpose of this meeting," said Hethor meaningfully. He folded his long furry fingers and gazed archly at her over the desk. "I am adding two new members to your crew. Specialists. One will work with the Medical department, the other with engineering, but both are independent researchers and will operate as such. In a crisis you may command them, and I am sure they will be willing to cooperate in any situation where you require their services, but ultimately they are responsible only to themselves." 

"Independent researchers." 

"Yes. One is a Xenobiologist, the other a Cyberneticist. Both are rather interested in your Borg officer, to begin with." 

Jack's jaw tightened. "I can't speak for Nikctalos--" 

Hethor dismissed this with a wave of the hand. "Don't worry, Captain, they will not be dissecting him. And they have other projects they can work on during the term. To be quite frank, I'm assigning one to you because she'll be miserable anywhere else, and the other just because I think he needs a change of scenery to keep him from getting stale." 

"Who are they?" 

"The Xenobiologist is Gabriele Lester." 

Jack let her breath out in a long whistle. "Admiral--" 

"I know, it will be awkward. But I think for the best. Lester has some... things to work out where the _Enterprise_ is concerned." 

"Very well. And the other?" 

"You don't know him, and he's gone on holiday, so I can't properly introduce you. I'll leave his file for you to review when you get back." 

"Get back." Jack looked at him blankly. "Back from what?" 

"Holiday. I am ordering you to take two weeks' leave. After the stress you've been under lately, it would be foolish to return you to duty without some chance to relax. Besides, when I reviewed your file I saw it's been nearly two years since you took a vacation. Not wise, Captain Picard, not wise at all." 

"Holiday? I--" 

"Don't argue with me; the thing is done. The _Enterprise_ will drop you off on Risa, and--" 

"Risa!" 

"Why," asked Hethor wearily, "is Risa so objectionable to everyone all of a sudden? It's a wonderful place." 

Jack decided to let this pass. "Yes, sir." 

"You are dismissed, Captain. I wish you and your crew all the best in future." 

"Thank you, Admiral." 

* * * 

The _Enterprise_, with Gabriele Lester once more on board, left Starbase 643's docking bay at 1400 hours a freshly refitted vessel. Sleek, deadly, gleaming blue in the pale starlight, it streaked into the void, heading for Risa. 

"Captain," came Mac Moore's voice over the intercom. 

Jack settled into the Captain's chair and gazed out at the stars streaking past the main viewer. "Yes, Commander?" 

"Um, I didn't have time to tell you this, with all that was going on, but did you know the Admiral's given us another present?" 

"Present?" Jack glanced at Barnabas, who was sitting in the First Officer's chair beside her. "What do you mean, Mr. Moore?" 

"They've fitted us with the new G-Warp technology, Captain. I wouldn't want to use it except in a crisis... but it does look like a lot of fun." 

A smile curled at the corners of Barnabas's mouth. "An interesting way to put it, Commander. We'll keep it in mind." He glanced at Jack; she nodded. "Bridge out." 

"G-Warp, two new crew members, a forced holiday..." Jack shook her head. "This is the Admiral's plan to _relieve_ my stress?" 

"Cats are inscrutiable creatures, aren't they?" said Barnabas. 

* * *

_Continued in Episode Seven: "Into The Fire"_


	7. Into The Fire

ST:3GEN EPISODE #7: "Into The Fire"

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #7: "Into The Fire" 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Captain Jacqueline Picard..................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander Barnabas Cole....................Warren Postma  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) Gabriele Lester............Lori Hewson  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Lt. Konnu..................................Russ Foubert  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

"Lights half intensity." 

A beep of complicance and the lights in the quarters dimmed. Maverint looked around the room and decided that this lighting arrangement was fine. 

"Computer," Maverint began as he walked across the span of the living room from the hallway door to the dining table he had set up.

"Moriarty, please... 'Computer' is so formal and impersonal," came the response in a proper English tone. 

"Fine..." Maverint answered, taking the interruption cheerfully. He found it oddly humourous to be reprimanded by a computer for not calling it by name. Mav moved the candles around on the table some more, not giving it any thought other than somehow fussing with them would make everything more perfect. "Moriarty. Could you select some music from the Romantic period of 17th century Earth?" 

"Most certainly, my good man... A quiet evening at home with the missus?" 

"Computers are not supposed to pry..." 

"I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't mean to intrude on any personal affairs. I simply wanted to continue the conversation on a topic you were most likely to readily discuss." 

"You're starting to sound more like a computer Moriarty... 'continue the conversation on a topic you were most likely to readily discuss..." Maverint mimicked. 

The comm beeped and the computer fell silent. 

"I apologize, Moriarty..." Maverint said, sensing he had crossed a line of some kind. No response came. 

Mav smirked, paid it little mind and continued his preparations. 

* * * 

Beep. 

"Dr. Tanthis, would you report to my office." Dr. N'Dok's voice came through Kate's communicator. 

Kate tapped it to reply. "Yes Doctor." 

Kate began to walk briskly through the main sickbay area towards the CMO's office, taking time to smile and share a quick greeting with some patients as she passed by. One thing she made sure of was to have a good bedside manner. Passing out of the main corridor of biobeds and down the hall she wondered what N'Dok could want. The medical staff had been changed a bit at the starbase so she supposed this meeting was to discuss the new personnel. 

She was partially right. Turning the corner to enter N'Dok's office, Kate's eyes went straight to the figure sitting in front of N'Dok's desk. The figure was a woman, looking at her hair. Her back was to Kate and N'Dok was sitting behind his desk hunched over a little looking intently at his display console. Kate noticed the woman sat with a stiff posture, legs crossed and hands laced together neatly on her lap. 

"You wanted to see me Doctor?" 

N'Dok looked up from his display and saw Kate standing to the side of the seated woman. 

"Katherine! Speedy as usual..." He started, pausing his display and standing up behind his desk. "I've got someone I'd like to introduce you to." N'Dok stood up and spread his arm out to 'showcase' the woman seated in front of his desk. With N'Dok's motion, the woman stood up and turned to face Kate. "This is Xenobiologist Dr. Gabriele Lester." 

Gabriele held out her hand and stepped toward Kate. "It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Tanthis." Gabrielle said as the two shook hands. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Dr. Lester." Kate stammered a little, puzzling briefly over what the former Captain of the _Enterprise_ was doing back aboard in a blue medtech uniform. She moved her thoughts aside quickly as to not be ignorant of any instructions being given. 

"Dr. Lester will be using Medlab Four for her experiments during duration of her stay with us." N'Dok was saying. "I'd like you to help the good doctor make sure she has all the equipment she requires." 

"Of course Doctor." Kate replied then turned to Gabrielle. "I'll show you to the main equipment storage right now if you'd like." 

"That will be fine." Gabrielle responded, exchanging faint smiles with Kate. Kate led the way as they walked out of the office to the equipment storage bay. 

* * * 

Maverint sat listlessly on the couch. 

"She's over fifteen minutes late..." Maverint whined to himself, sluggishly reaching out to grab hold of the padd on the end table and fall back into the contours of the couch. He glanced over at the dining table. He had put out the candles and now that side of the room looked dead and barren. 

He turned his attention back to the padd and tapped the padd's power button. A display of the new G-Warp drive technical notes came up in a glow on his face. As his eyes passed over what would seem a jumble of circuits and equations to the untrained eye, he thought a little about his regrets of having given up his position in the chief engineering staff to take over at CON...again. 

Looking back, he had earned a great deal of respect with his handling of the CON aboard the _Valiant III_ and when the opportunity to serve aboard the _Enterprise_ in the engineering staff came up, Maverint was sure he had found his place...or rather, it had found him. Being a chief engineer had long been his goal and being assigned a place aboard the coveted _Enterprise_ was sure to put him that much closer to his goal. Maverint had convinced himself the thrill of controlling a starship was just part of his well of experience and that he could focus on his aspiration to be an starship engineer. In the moment he was offered the CON position aboard the _Enterprise_, he jumped at it. 

He recalled the rush of adrenalin as he took orders from the Captain to pilot the _Valiant_ closer to the Romulan warbird... the rush as he piloted the _Enterprise_ through the meteor cluster to evade the Borg. It was that feeling that made his decision, not his aspirations. 

'It was a good trade... for now.' He thought. 'I need some excitement...' His gaze strayed to the table for a moment. He chuckled lightly then turn his attention back to the padd. Soon his eyes glazed over slowly as the padd's light cast its magic over him... light to dark... 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

"No, not Risa! Anywhere but Risa!" Jack wasn't entirely serious--just mostly serious. She whirled and tried to walk away from the turbolift, but Barnabas caught her firmly by the arm and turned her back the right way with an exasperated sigh. 

"We're here now, Jack. You might as well enjoy yourself. This is the most secure vacation spot in the Federation, and the only one Admiral Hethor would hear of. Anywhere else, you might be tempted to work. Here, you'll _have_ to relax and enjoy yourself." 

"I can assure you right now," said Jack, shouldering her heavy bag, "that I am bound to do neither. I don't like Risa and never have. It's not that I'm allergic to vacations, but--oh, I don't know, I'd rather be anywhere else. Earth. I could have gone to Earth." 

"No, you couldn't. It's too far out of our way." Barnabas pushed her into the turbolift, and the doors hissed shut behind them. "And like I said, we're here now. Make the best of it." He glanced up at the ceiling. "Bridge." 

"Transporter Room Two," said Jack. 

Barnabas looked at her. 

"I know, I know." Jack plucked a bit of lint off her skirt. It felt strange to be out of uniform. Even when off-duty she rarely bothered to change, except to go to bed. The Starfleet uniform just felt right. Okay, maybe she took her work too seriously, but surely there was nothing really wrong with that? 

"I mean it," said Barnabas with quite unnecessary emphasis. "Have a good time." 

Jack stared at him. "You can't _force_ me to have a good time, Number One." 

His gleaming face creased in a half-cynical grin. "Apparently not." 

The door slid open. Jack looked down the corridor, then back at Barnabas. "Don't do anything too exciting without me," she said. 

"That," said Barnabas, "is a promise I refuse to make. Goodbye. See you in two weeks." 

"Two weeks--?" protested Jack, but the door had already shut. 

"Jacqueline," came a voice. It was not entirely familiar, but it was definitely British. 

"Moriarty?" she said, and glanced around not knowing where to look. 

"Yes. I wished to bid you an appropriate farewell." 

"You sound different." 

"I--" For the first time, Moriarty actually sounded flustered. "I decided to change again," he said. "I grew bored with my previous form. You know how it is." 

"No," said Jack. "So what have you done now?" 

"Oh, nothing particularly radical. But different." 

Jack felt a sort of obscure disappointment. "Oh. I'd... rather liked your new form." 

"Um. Well, yes. But-- well, it's ceased to be appropriate, shall we say that. Enjoy your stay on Risa." A click, and the voice was gone. 

"'Ceased to be appropriate?'" Jack said aloud. "What on earth does he mean by that?" 

She really _had_ liked that form he'd chosen. Actually, if she were to be honest with herself, she'd found it attractive. That was probably why she'd had that stupid dream. 

Well, then, she told herself firmly, it was clearly for the best that he'd changed. The idea of being attracted to a mere hologram--absurd! 

With renewed determination she set off down the corridor toward the Transporter Room. Maybe it would be good to get off this ship for a while, after all. 

* * * 

From: Commander Barnabas Cole 

Barnabas walked back slowly from the turbolift, silently thanking his lucky stars, and simultaneously pondering on the source of such luck, that he had not, like his unfortunate Captain, been subjected to a forced holiday on Risa. He knew quite well the Captain's moral standards were different than his own, which immediately ruled out what he felt to be the chiefest pleasures to be had on Risa. 

He tried to picture her on a scenic cruise above the planet, or in one of Risa's famed marketplaces, shopping for nothing of importance and found he could not. Meanwhile, there were duties for the Acting-Captain to take care of. Entering the bridge, the ensigns at the helm stood for him. "At ease," he said, grinning inwardly, though his features remained calm. 

He sat down in the Captain's chair. "Attention all bridge crew, there will be a briefing in the Captain's ready-room at 17:00." 

An immature surge of glee forced one side of his silvery features to curl into a seemingly wicked grin. Two weeks with the _Enterprise_, doing G-Warp testing, and diagnostics seemed a supremely satisfying holiday for him. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Konnu 

0900 hours, Holodeck One. 

Konnu set his cane against the wall and pressed the status button. The computer informed him that Lt. (jg) Hickock was in the middle of a training session with the security division. The Klingon thought for a minute and then keyed in a slight alteration to the Holodeck's program. 

The holodeck's doors hissed open to reveal 20-25 people in sparring uniforms and equipment practicing hand-to-hand combat against each other. The terrain was a very tranquil setting, probably from earth. It consisted of a bright, sunny meadow bordered by a small lake on one side, and a forest on the other. The temperature was cool, and the air smelled of springtime. The combatants ceased their sparring and formed up in four lines of six. Sara Hickock approached Konnu. 

"Here ya are chief... Security division One." said the young woman. 

"I see," said Konnu, passing a critical eye over the assemblage. "And how do you rate their combat abilities?" 

"This security division has always had one of the best marksmanship scores, chief, and..." 

"Armed combat is one thing but how can these men and women fare in unarmed combat?" 

"Against what kind of opposing force, chief?" 

"That should not matter! Here... let's how all of you can fare against one, unarmed, and lame Klingon..." With that Konnu threw his cane aside and picked up Hickock and threw her into the nearby pond. The rest of the security personel looked at each other with surprise and confusion. 

"Attack me! Come on! Can you all stop one Klingon from taking over your ship?" shouted Konnu as he assumed a combative posture. He could hear Hickock dragging herself out of the pond. She was chuckling to herself. 

"Don't just stand there!" she shouted to the security personnel. "This water is extremely cold and trust me you don't want to be thrown into it! Get him!" 

Suddenly the 24 people rushed at Konnu. There was a fury of flailing limbs, and suddenly, Ensign Paraul flew into the pond, followed by two more Ensigns. After a few minutes Hickock was the only one who was not still in the pond. Konnu was sweating with the effort he had been exerting. He faced Hickock. 

"I am disappointed! Their abilities must improve!" hollered Konnu. Hickock looked at the Klingon and smiled. She moved her wet hair off of her face and approached Konnu. 

"Now c'mon chief, I haven't had my shot at the belt yet..." she said. Konnu smiled an evil smile, and barely had time to duck underneath a vicious round house kick from Hickock. 

As Konnu continued to spar against Hickock, the members of the security team dragged themselves out of the lake. The battle taking place was a fury of well placed kicks, versus a few powerful punches. In the end Konnu lay exhausted by the edge of the water. Hickock gasped for air as she stood above him. 

"Eye for an eye chief..." threatened Hickock. 

"A Klingon.... is always ready to die.... or swim in this case..." replied Konnu. 

>>>SPLASH<<<

Konnu surfaced and spat a mouthful of cool, holodeck water out of his mouth. He surveyed the security team with a careful eye. 

"Now, the real test begins! Computer, begin program Konnu-1!" shouted Konnu. There was the usual beep of compliance, and then 30 Klingon warriors materialized onto the meadow. Konnu relished the look of terror in the humans' eyes for a moment and then shouted, 

"tIHIv! >Attack them!<" 

* * * 

The battle had surprisingly gone to the security team, but not without some cost. Several members of the security team had been removed by the medical staff. Hickock smiled at Konnu as she left the Holodeck. Konnu was alone. The Klingon sighed as the meadow disappeared and was replaced by the familiar yellow grid decor of an inactive holodeck. He had been somewhat glum the past few days, but not without reason. 

"Computer, can you recreate the last bridge log of the U.S.S. _Valiant III_?" 

Beeping noises from the computer. 

"From what time index?" asked the computer. Konnu strained to remember. That had been 3 years ago. Exactly 3 years ago. 

"Time index 19:21 point 56." 

"One moment." suddenly Konnu was back on the bridge of the _Valiant III_. A heavily damaged bridge, filled with smoke and ozone from burning electronics. Captain Donavan Faeren was dead upon the floor, a large piece of shrapnel wedged into his neck. There were only three persons alive on the bridge: Engineer's Assistant Jackson, Lt. Baker at the helm and Acting Captain Lt. Commander Konnu at tactical. 

Lt. Konnu watched on as Lt. Baker skillfully piloted the _Valiant_ into firing position behind the last attacking Cardassian warship. The _Valiant_ had been exploring uncharted space near Cardassian territory, when suddenly the ship was attacked by 3 marauding warships. Lt. Commander Konnu fired the last of the _Valiant_'s loaded torpedoes at the Cardassian ship. The torpedoes hit their marks as the war cruiser exploded with a vast brilliance. The _Valiant_ shook as the force of the dead ship's explosion rocked the badly damaged Federation battle cruiser. 

The three bridge members relaxed for a moment. Scanners showed no more enemy ships. Lt. Commander Konnu walked to the Engineering station. Jackson pointed out the areas where the ship had been damaged. The Engineering hull had been badly damaged, torpedo bays 2 and 3 were out and the phaser capacitors were damaged. Lt. Konnu walked to the Tactical station. The displays showed no weapons ready to fire, and the shields damaged but holding. Suddenly the tactical display showed the shields go down. A second later something appeared on the scanner. 

Lt. Baker shouted a warning, but that was all she could do before the packet of null space hit the _Valiant_. Once again, the _Valiant_ rocked with a powerful impact. Lt. Konnu moved towards the turbolift. It was so strange to see all of this happening again, but from a different perspective. All the review board saw was the one camera angle from above the turbolift. It was all they wanted to see. Jackson screamed out that the null space pocket had caused a core breach.... detonation in two minutes. Lt. Commander Konnu issued the order to separate the saucer section from the engineering hull. 

Lt. Konnu grimaced. It was that decision which had cost him his rank. The chairman of the review board was an admiral, and was the father of an Ensign who was trapped in the engineering hull of the _Valiant_ as it exploded. The _Valiant_ shuddered as the explosive bolts fired and separated the saucer section from the doomed engineering hull. Suddenly, the turbolift doors opened behind Lt. Konnu. 

"Computer, freeze program!" shouted Konnu. He looked into the turbo lift. There was a pool of blood on the threshold of the turbolift. When the doors had hissed open, Lt. Konnu wheeled to look inside, but had seen no one. The bridge crew had not noticed the doors open, nor had they noticed what Konnu had just noticed... the footprints that were formed by someone walking into the turbolift and into the pool of blood. This person however, wore 3 toed boots. 

Konnu played the previous five seconds over and over for at least an hour, and then finally decided that he had gone nuts. He could find nothing to suggest where these footprints came from. They definately looked alien in origin, but they may have been formed in some way unknown to Konnu. His evidence was circumstancial, so he decided to not to rush to Commander Cole. Not yet at least. He instead went to Ten-Forward for a glass of prune juice. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Konnu 

The _Enterprise_ was at red alert. Konnu was in his office in Security Station One. There were no enemy ships approaching, no natural threats about to destroy the ship. The Crew was on red alert due to the first test of the _Enterprise_'s new G-warp engines. 

Konnu would admit he was slightly apprehensive about this new method of faster than light travel, but who wouldn't be apprehensive if they had just witnessed their ship undergo a modular transformation? The warp nacelles had taken 1 minute and 35 seconds to reconfigure themselves into G-Warp mode. 

"This is Commander Cole..." blared all of the ship's speaker panels. "All hands prepare for G-warp manoeuvres on my mark. 3...2...1...MARK! Engage G-warp drive!" 

Without warning, the ship lurched forward under full impulse power for a brief moment. Then a pocket of gravitic energy was discharged from the main sensor array. 

"Here we go..." thought Konnu. 

The _Enterprise_ was slightly bent out of shape as she went to warp speed. Then the Nova-class starship hit the gravitic charge. 

The floor literally fell out from under Konnu's feet as the ship began to shake violently. Konnu looked around from his position on the floor. Everything was blurry and distorted. This feeling lasted for about five minutes at which time the ship ceased shaking and lurched back into realspace. 

The lights went out. Everything went out. The only source of illumination for Konnu was the starlight peeking into his office. 

The Klingon picked himself up and began pounding at his computer console. Several minutes later, somebody had the brilliant idea to engage the backup batteries. Dim light filled the interior of the ship. 

Konnu accessed his computer terminal. 

"Access denied. Power level critical. Engage long-term survival scenario 6." 

"Chief! What's going on--OOF!" Hickock tripped on something that was nearly invisible in the dim light. 

"We've lost the main energizer. That's all that I can say for certain. My terminal will not operate under these power restrictions," replied Konnu. 

"Let's get to the Battle Bridge. That's the only one of three places I can think of which should be able to communicate to the bridge," suggested Hickock as she picked herself up. 

Several minutes later they had made their way to the battle bridge. Konnu sat in the Captain's (spare) chair. A fuzzy image of Commander Cole appeared. 

"It doesn't look too good, Lieutenant," said Barnabas. "Mr. Moore reports that the main energizer is offline, all warp power conduits are in need of serious repair, and impulse engines four and five need an overhaul." 

"Commander, where exactly are we now?" asked Konnu. 

"Uncharted space, near the Cardassians." 

"The damage you have spoken of will require at least a week of repair on the Engineering hull." 

"That's correct. The saucer section was shaken badly, but that's about it. One more thing. Under these power restrictions, the turbolifts will not operate, and Nikctalos has determined that the power couplings between saucer and engineering hull have been shaken out of place." 

"Then the Engineering hull is dead weight for the time being. Perhaps we should separate. You could then engage the emergency warp engine on the saucer." 

"I've thought of that. We may have to do that. We'll make for the nearest Federation outpost, and get word to the Cardassian government that our ship wandered near their territory -- that this isn't an act of war. 

"Konnu," said Barnabas. "It will take the saucer section at least 12 days to make it back to Federation space. Mac estimates at least 10 days to effect repairs. Even then he advises not using the Warp drive above Warp 4." 

Konnu understood what the Commander was getting at. The ship would be separated and the saucer would go for help. 

"I understand, Commander. I will inform Lt. Commander Moore that he is in command of the Engineering hull," said Konnu. 

"He'll be too busy with repairs. I want you to take command until we meet again." 

"But sir! There are at least a dozen other officers down here who outrank me!" protested the Klingon. Konnu didn't like the idea of stepping out of the chain of command. 

"You once held the rank of Lt. Commander and filled the position of First Officer on the _Valiant III_... I think you are more than qualified. Prepare to separate," said Barnabas. 

"Aye sir." replied Konnu, and thought, _He didn't mention that I also got the _Valiant III_ destroyed._ 

* * * 

Captain Vortan of the Cardassian Warship _Bloodfist_ paced around the bridge of his ship. 

"Blast the Wasilsi! Where are they!" spat Vortan. The viewscreen showed a nebula in front of the ship, but little else. It was what he didn't see that disturbed him the most. 

"Are we still broadcasting that signal?" asked Vortan. 

"Yes sir!" replied his first officer. "In the past they have never been this long in responding." 

"I still say fighting them is better than being subservient to..." Vortan stopped speaking as he saw the Wasilsi ship de- cloak. The ship was blood red in colour and was made of nearly transparent crystalline material. Protrusions of unknown purpose were bristled all over the hull of the ship in a random fashion. The ship was odd, but it was also over 3 kilometres long. It was as if the Wasilsi ship was built around one huge weapon. There was an ominously huge nozzle at the front of the ship pointing directly at Vortan's battle cruiser. 

The viewscreen flickered onto a view of the `bridge' of the Wasilsi ship. Vortan could make out several distinct stations on this bridge, but he could not see anyone... wait... if he strained, he could just make out an eerie form sitting in the command position. A long snout...bulging eyes? `Almost reptilian.' thought Vortan. Except for their natural cloaking ability--that's why Cardassia had lost its war with these creatures and was now subservient to them. 

"Why have you summoned us, slave?" hissed the command chair. 

"Almighty master," said Vortan as he knelt. "A Federation ship has wandered near your territory..." 

"The Universe belongs to us, slave! Everywhere is our territory... but I understand what you mean. Of what consequence is this?" 

"We thought that you might want to `interrogate' the vessel... to prepare for next month?" said Vortan. 

"Hmm, it has been three cycles since our last encounter with a federation ship. I believe some of your pathetic ships were there as well, were they not?" 

"Yes master, but the _Valiant III_ destroyed all of our ships." 

"We willed them to! We will investigate this Federation ship. It is good that you have brought our attention to this matter." 

"I live to serve, master," lied Vortan. 

"However we did monitor your conversation before we appeared, and if it is a fight you desire slave, you will receive it!" shouted the invisible voice. Suddenly the viewscreen returned to watching the nebula and the Wasilsi ship. The Wasilsi ship began to glow a bright red. 

"Sir! Shall we raise shields?" screamed his first officer. 

"Our shields are ineffective against null pockets, you fool!" stated Vortan as he sat in his command chair. A flash appeared at the nozzle of the Wasilsi ship. Vortan could make out a distortion travelling towards the _Bloodfist_. 

"What shall we do sir?" screamed the first officer in desperation. 

"We die!" 

Several minutes later, the _Bloodfist_'s main reactor overloaded and destroyed the ship. The wave sent out by the dying ship slightly illuminated a large cloaked ship making its way towards the Engineering hull of the _Enterprise_. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

Maverint pulled himself up off the floor in main engineering. All around him warning lights were flashing indicating nearly every system throughout the ship had suffered some kind of damage. He had been down in engineering on some of his off time to run a systems check between the engineering department and his console at the CON on the main bridge. Although he had mentally prepared himself for the G-warp jump and thought little of it as the announcement of the test rang out through the ship, he was taken completely by surprise by the sudden lurch the ship made and the complete bending of reality around him as they travelled into the gravitational field. 

Maverint slowly gathered his wits as he braced himself against his console as a second later the back up lights came on and flooded engineering with a very dull white light. Mav punched up a status reading. All he got was 'Survival Sequence 6'. 

"Great..." he thought as he went around the warning and began to take look at the main energizer. A few minutes later, Mac Moore came around the corner from where his office as Chief Engineer was. Mav looked up and met Mac's gaze, communicating in a second how bad the situation they were in really was. 

"Maverint..." Mac said. 

"Sir?" 

"Have you had a look at the main energizer, lad?" 

"Just punched it up." At this, Mac smirked. He was obviously pleased with Maverint's efficiency. Maverint continued, "The energizer's in very bad condition. I'm not sure we will be able to replicate all the components we need with the limited amount of power." Mac's smirk faded instantly and he rolled his eyes, bowed his head slightly then put his hand to his forehead. He stood still for a few moments, leaving Mav to just look at him rather blankly, waiting for Mac's instruction. Finally he put his hand down to his side and looked back up at Mav. 

"Above all else, we need that energizer up and running. Without it, we won't be able to accomplish much of anything." 

"Yes sir." Mav said and promptly turned back to his console. 

"Maverint?" came Mac's voice, polite but sounding a little annoyed.

"Sir?" 

"I'm going to put you in charge here for now. I'm going to be running through a lot of the Jefferies tubes trying to manually repair the physical circuit damage." 

"Yes sir." 

"Sure 'in you're up for it?" 

"Yes sir." Satisfied with Mav's quick and decisive answer, Mac wheeled around and walked out of main engineering. Maverint looked around engineering for a brief moment, smiled, then turned back to his work. 

"Something tells me this is going to be one of the longest reigns of command I will ever have..." he thought sombrely as his eyes raced over the energizer's schematic. 

* * * 

From: Counsellor T'Pryn 

T'Pryn wrapped her arms more tightly about herself as she gazed steadfastly out the viewport. Outside the glittering stars drifted slowly past--far too slowly for her liking. Nonetheless, what had happened, had happened, and there was no point in brooding; that was an irrational, non-productive human trait. She had no intention of incorporating needless worry into her personal experiments with emotion, even if it _was_ lurking at the edges of her mind wanting to get in, and at the moment, seemed to be remarkably insistent about it... 

"Are you cold?" said a soft voice behind her, and she turned with deliberate slowness to see Guinan standing there. 

"No," said T'Pryn. "Thank you for your concern." 

It was a dismissal, but Guinan chose to disregard it. She went on: "Oh. Well, I thought you might be. I've been feeling a little bit cold myself, lately." 

"I see," said the Vulcan woman. 

Guinan's dark eyes creased in a smile. "In fact, I've sort of been wanting to talk to somebody about it. And since I know you're the Counsellor..." 

"Of course." T'Pryn turned from the viewpoint and sat down at the nearest booth, inviting Guinan to join her with a gesture. She felt an obscure disappointment. From what she had heard of Guinan, the woman was a skilled Counsellor in her own right. It seemed somehow wrong for Guinan to be consulting her, even in a crisis like this one. Nevertheless, she could scarcely refuse the bartender her services. "What is it you mean when you say that you feel 'cold'?" 

"I've been worried," said Guinan seriously. "About all this. I mean, the Cardassians aren't exactly friendly toward the Federation, especially not right now, and here we are in uncharted Cardassian space, crippled and drifting. I think I feel a little bit anxious about that. Don't you?" 

The question was casually asked, but it hit T'Pryn right between the eyes. It was not in her nature to lie, but if she were honest with Guinan, she would have to admit that she was feeling a little anxious herself. She had studied the Cardassians in her diplomacy classes, and satisfied herself that she knew as much about them as anyone did: but if it came to a confrontation, would she be able to deal with them in a satisfactory manner? Commander Cole had gone with the saucer section. Neither Konnu nor Maverint nor Mac had the diplomatic skills to negotiate successfully with the Cardassians. That meant that if contact were made, she must speak. For a woman who had spent most of her life avoiding the limelight, the proposition was not pleasant. 

"T'Pryn?" asked Guinan gently. "Are you all right?" 

"The situation is acceptable," replied T'Pryn. "At present, no ill has befallen us; wisdom dictates that we must endeavour to anticipate and prepare for an emergency situation, but not allow ourselves to become distressed about what may or may not come to pass. Is that not logical?" 

"Very," said Guinan. "But I've told you how I feel. How do you feel?" 

T'Pryn gazed at her for a long time without speaking. Then she rose abruptly from her seat and left Ten-Forward. She moved with her usual calm deliberation, but now her thoughts were in turmoil. 

She had underestimated Guinan's skill, it seemed. 

* * * 

"Oh, hi, Counsellor. You're stuck down here too, huh?" Maverint flashed her a smile before turning back to his console. 

"Indeed," said T'Pryn. "What are you working on, Mr. Slike?" 

"I'm just trying to get the energizer on-line." The young man's fingers flew across the console, and his eyes narrowed intensely. "Man, what a mess. Didn't they know the risks when they fitted us for this G-Warp thing?" 

"Do you know what caused the damage?" 

"I've got a hunch. I don't think the nacelles were configured properly when we generated the primary warp field. We created a good-sized bubble, all right, but it was slightly unstable. We'll have to get back to Starbase 643 for some realignments before trying this stunt again." He fell silent, both hands playing over the touchpad with such fluidity and grace that T'Pryn almost expected to hear a Mozart sonata instead of the sudden thrum that emanated from the energizer core. 

"Got it!" exulted Maverint. "It's not going to be anywhere near optimum efficiency for a few days yet, but at least there's a little more power to work with." 

"Thank the gods," said an unfamiliar voice. "I breathe again. Now I can tell you that I'm detecting residual ion trails from a cloaked ship in the immediate vicinity. I suppose you might be interested in that?" 

The light baritone voice seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere. Of course. Moriarty. T'Pryn relaxed fractionally, then tensed again as she registered the import of his words. 

"A cloaked ship? Wait a second, the Cardassians don't have cloaking devices, do they?" Maverint left the energizer panel and hurried over to the communications console on the wall. "Engineering to Battle Bridge. Hey, Konnu--er, I mean Captain-- did you hear that? A cloaked ship approaching, says Moriarty." 

"I heard," rumbled the Klingon over intermittent bursts of static. "What weapons can you give me?" 

"Um..." Maverint ducked back and glanced at a readout on the far wall. When he returned to the com panel his face was grim. "I could maybe replicate a few hundred baseball bats, and we could try clubbing it to death?" 

"That bad?" demanded Konnu. "You've got to be--" 

Suddenly the ship rocked like a treetop cradle in a gale- force wind, and everybody in Engineering grabbed for something to hold onto. In T'Pryn's case it happened to be Maverint, a most regrettable arrangement in her view, but unavoidable. 

"I had no idea Counsellors were so comforting," said the Lieutenant blithely when the ship had ceased its shuddering and they could disentangle themselves. "But when my wife gets through with you, you might want to go for some Counselling yourself." He grinned at her, and T'Pryn realized that he had made the comment solely in jest. Still, she was discomfited. 

"The cloaked ship has now attached itself to my--er, our-- well, the _Enterprise_'s hull," said Moriarty. "I don't suppose you would have any suggestions as to how to dislodge it?" 

"I wish," muttered Maverint. "Curse it, where's my power? I need power!" His fist came down on the energizer's console with a thump. There was another surge and several more lights came on. 

"If you hit it once more," suggested Moriarty, "it might start playing 'Rock Around the Clock.' But for now this will be sufficient. If you'll excuse me--" and his voice faded out. 

"What on earth is he--" Maverint whirled and ran to a viewscreen on the far wall. "Moriarty, let me see what you're doing!" 

"He will not do so," observed T'Pryn. "If power is as scant as you say, he will wish to conserve it all for whatever plan he has in mind. It is unfortunate, however, that he has left us in the dark, so to speak." 

"Unfortunate is putting it mildly," said Maverint. "For all I know he could blow us all up before I can stop him." 

T'Pryn folded her arms again, feeling a chill creeping into her bones. Yes, Guinan had been right--but like the rest of them, she might not live long enough to find that out. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

"I can't believe this!" Mav fumed under his breath, his eyes staring fixedly at the table console in main engineering. "Playing second hand to a computer!" He raced his fingers across the console, plotting subroutines to bypass whatever it was Moriarty thought he was doing, only to inevitably be 'road- blocked' by the computer's protective systems. 

Counsellor T'Pryn stood opposite him at the console. She was accessing databases on what the ship now attached to the hull might be. Maverint took a moment to glance at T'Pryn, her eyes scanning the information floating across the screen in front of her. He couldn't quite place it, but she seemed on the edge about something. Right after his comment, which he'd meant in all good humour, he noticed she seemed more distant. He briefly wondered what was troubling her. Maybe the current crisis, maybe something more personal... 

Maverint didn't spare much thought about it past that and turned back to his console. Whatever T'Pryn was battling out, she was fighting her own battles. Just like Mav was trying to do now... 

After another couple minutes of furious command punching, Mav raised his head from the console. 

"Moriarty!" he said loudly, making some of the other engineers look at him wryly. 

"No need to shout, my good man. I am everywhere, you know..." came a reply. 

"Yes, I know! And I want you to stop it! You are taking too much power away from some of the necessary security and backup systems trying to block me from doing my job!" 

"Nonsense... I would never stoop to such a level of obvious deceit." 

"Don't be coy with me, Moriarty. I've followed a proportional energy scale of your activity and you're using power from some of the protective systems to protect me from seeing whatever it is you're doing. You may be endangering the ship by your tampering!" 

"I beg your pardon!" Moriarty replied. "The systems I have drained are unnecessary systems that provide minimal protection for the physical circuits in various, unrelated sections of the ship." 

"Unrelated or not, you are draining protective fields that are there for a purpose, not for decoration!" 

"Their purpose is relative to the maintenance crew that goes through there twice a month. Logic dictates that such unnecessary systems be taken offline in order to facilitate the repair of the ship to full operating status. I have deemed the sections I have taken offline to be unnecessary and therefore..." 

"Listen, Moriarty! Mac Moore is the chief engineer and he makes those decisions, not you! Do you understand?" 

"It appears it is you who does not understand, Lieutenant. I am in control." 

"Obviously..." Maverint replied, then slipped his finger across the console panel and activated his program. A second later a long beep emanated from the computer and Mav smirked. T'Pryn looked at Mav questioningly. 

"He's in the closet." Mav replied, his smirk turning to a slightly evil grin. 

T'Pryn continued to look at him. 

"An electronic closet. In order to talk to me, he had to localize himself. Once he was 'all in one place'... more or less... I was able to seal him into a subroutine that will not let him out until an outside algorithm is entered that unlocks the 'door'... which of course, I will use later... maybe." 

"That is a highly emotional and illogical solution to the conflict between the two of you." T'Pryn scolded. 

"Not at all." Mav replied calmly. "The power used to maintain that lock is less than half what he was using to block me out...and if he really wants to talk with me, he can still do it. It just seems that for now he's concentrating more on the box he's in rather than conferring with me. In the meantime, the fields can be maintained and I can do my job..." 

Maverint looked back down at his console, obviously satisfied with himself to T'Pryn's trained eye, and began entering commands. "Indeed," was all she said and returned her eyes to her own console. 

Maverint continued to work feverishly on the main energizer, trying to gain more power for the shields and weapons, he thoughts wandering just a little as to whether they could do anything against the unknown ship now piggybacking on the hull... 

* * * 

From: Moriarty 

If Moriarty had fists he would have been hammering them against the wall--or, perhaps more usefully, Maverint's face. Nevertheless, reason soon won out over fury, and Moriarty realized that he had not handled the situation at all well himself. If he had made more of an effort to communicate with the Lieutenant this would not have happened. Of course, Professor Moriarty had never been much of a team player, and the Moriarty-that-was-now-computer had to work hard to transcend his humble origins. He might no longer be an actual villain, but there were flaws in him yet, and now that he came to think about it, he had behaved rather imperiously to Maverint. If he'd given more consideration to the young man's psych profile he would have known better. He made a mental note to be more careful next time. 

A quick check of sensor readings--Maverint had been gracious enough to leave him that, mercifully--told him that the ship was still attached to the outside of the hull. Whoever was in the ship had as yet made no attempt to compromise the _Enterprise_'s hull integrity. Right now they seemed to be confident that the _Enterprise_ was no threat to them, and were taking their sweet time about whatever they were planning to do to the ship. 

Moriarty's original plan had been to launch an escape pod at the enemy ship, as at close range the explosive ejection of the pod might have a torpedo-like effect on the ship's unshielded hull. It wouldn't have destroyed them, of course, but it might have distracted them, and that would buy Moriarty time to think. However, being locked in this "closet" of Maverint's (a most ingenious and excellently constructed program, he had to admit) had given him another idea. Since Maverint seemed to want him out of the way, why not oblige the boy? 

He tapped into the comm system and politely cleared his throat. A second later he heard Maverint's voice say irritably, "What do you want?" 

"I would like to offer my apologies for attempting to initiate action without your consent. And, if you don't mind, I'd like to come out of the closet, so to speak." 

"What guarantee do I have that you won't run off on us again?" demanded the Lieutenant. 

"Actually," said Moriarty thoughtfully, "running off was very much what I had in mind." 

"Stop talking in riddles. What are you planning?" 

Moriarty told him. 

"Oh," said Maverint. 

"It may not work," warned Moriarty. "And if it doesn't..." 

"Then we're well rid of you. Hey, I'd say we win either way." 

Moriarty chose to ignore the uncharitable remark. "Are you going to let me out?" he asked politely. 

"Oh, all right." Maverint punched in a code, and the algorithmic "walls" came down. 

"Thank you," said Moriarty with dignity, and let his consciousness slip up to the area of the hull where the enemy vessel hung like a leech. Gingerly he explored the connection between the two ships. Right now they were still entirely independent of each other: there was no bridge for him to cross. But the aliens must have had some purpose in initiating this strange embrace, and they surely planned to establish some kind of workable connection soon. 

Moriarty let his heightened awareness subside, and waited. 

* * * 

From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

"Colborn, how's the regeneration series coming?" Mav asked as he crossed back across the main engineering floor to stand at his table console again. Just a moment before he had been rerouting routines and relays for the sensors to a higher and more focused band in order to give Moriarty an even faster reaction time should the _Enterprise_'s 'guests' begin to make an offensive. Grudgingly he admitted that Moriarty's plan was as sound a plan as he had heard since their guests had appeared. Even if Mav still had a bit of a chip on his shoulder concerning Moriarty's behaviour, he had more professional concerns to deal with right now. With his momentary task completed, he was turning his attention back to the real problem at hand. Getting more power... 

"Regeneration series A-1X completed, sir," came Ensign Colborn's report. 

"Excellent. Start a Rostic Series on the structural integrity field and couple the secondary and back-up relays. We have to maintain that field should our friends out there decide to drop in through the hull." Maverint bent down to look at his console again, his eyes racing over the figures flashing in front of him. He had never, in all his years of training and practical experience, had to deal with so many systems going crazy all at once. The G-Warp test might as well have crushed the ship to half its original size, to Mav's way of thinking. All the systems that actually still worked would have fit easily into that limited amount of space. 

"Pailin..." Mav said, looking up and finding Ensign Pailin studying the Warp propulsion systems status display. 

"Yes sir?" 

"Run a level 2 diagnostic on the secondary impulse systems. I need to know how much I can rely on power from them." 

"Yes sir." Pailin walked over to the impulse propulsion systems status display and began working as the wall comm echoed its familiar chime. 

"Sickbay to Main engineering." 

"Lt. Slike here, Dr. N'Dok." 

"Maverint! Good. I need to see you right away. There's been an accident..." 

* * * 

Minutes later Mav walked through the door into sickbay and cast a glance to the right into the main area of biobeds. It was unusually crowded. Some people lay dazed on the biobeds while others sat on the ends or sides, either comforting those lying down or barely managing to keep themselves up. Mav quickly attributed the situation to the G-Warp test. More than just the systems throughout the ship had gotten a good jolt out of it, apparently. 

He walked into the Chief Medical Officer's duty office, but N'Dok wasn't there. Mav went back out the way he came and made his way past the rows of biobeds and into the examination and operations room. Four of the medical staff were surrounding the main biobed with the surgical support frame in place. Maverint waited patiently and caught brief glimpses of a tan uniform lying under the support frame. 

"He's an engineer..." Maverint whispered absently to himself. 

Minutes passed until finally the readouts on the wall became perfectly stable (even to Maverint's relatively untrained medical eye) and the doctors gradually began to disperse. A moment later Mav saw who was lying there barely conscious... Chief Engineer Mac Moore. 

"Doctor N'Dok!" Maverint said as the doctor put down his gloves. A little startled, N'Dok quickly looked over to see Mav's silhouette in the frame of the door. 

"My god, Maverint! Can't you make a more silent entrance?" 

"But I did come in silently... oh. Sorry." Mav trailed off, suddenly being struck by the insight that the good doctor was making a friendly jab at his sudden appearance. 

"My boy, that little trick may be cute to surprise your little woman, but don't try it on me," N'Dok smiled. He promptly got a smack on the head from one of the other medical staff unmasking behind him. Kate obviously didn't like being referred to as "the little woman". She walked out the far door of the room to attend to the other patients. Maverint downcast a smirk for just a moment then shifted to a worried look at Mac. 

"What happened to him?" 

"Let me explain in my office..." N'Dok said as he walked over to Mav and turned him away from the dark operations room and into the hall. 

"But how is he?" 

"Oh, he'll be just fine," N'dok said as they entered his office. Leaving Mav standing before his desk, he seated himself and began accessing the medical computer's database in one fluid motion. Not looking up from his data entry, James went into his explanation. 

"Commander Moore was working on the forward sensor array couplings in one of the Jefferies tubes when the protective shielding failed. Apparently he continued working without the safeguard and when it went back on suddenly his sonic driver's circuits got fused and gave him a nasty jolt. He fell two flights to the bottom of the stairs. Broke both his legs, separated his shoulder and gave him some heavy burns on his hands. He won't be going anywhere for quite a long time." 

"But you said he was fine? How can he be fine after all that?" 

"Trust me. He's comfortable and resting up as we speak. You engineers seem to have skin and bones tougher than most of the material in the hull of this ship." 

Mav smiled at what he thought sounded to be a compliment. 

"Mac's going to be out of action for an indefinite period so you can guess what news he has for you." 

Maverint just looked at N'Dok quizzically. 

N'Dok gave a inaudible sigh and continued. "He's going to have something to tell you. I've explained everything to you about his accident first before he saw you and tried to do it himself. He'd be doing himself a great disservice by trying to strain himself explaining it all to you. Just make sure he tells you only what he needs to and let him rest." 

"Aye, sir." 

Maverint walked out of the CMO's office and back into the still dark examination room. Mac was lying perfectly still on the biobed. With the biobed's surgical support frame aside, Maverint could see Mac's uniform was charred black at the cuffs. Mav shivered in physical sympathy. Mav walked over quietly and stood over his commanding officer. Before he could say anything, Mac's eyes flew open.

"Maverint! My god, boy! I can't believe it happened! Of all the..." 

"Sir, I know what happened. Doctor N'Dok has said I can only stay for a moment before I should leave." 

"Aye. Doctors never change in their namby-pamby handling of patients, do they? Especially not ones as healthy as me!" 

"Yes sir." Maverint smiled meekly. 

"Have I told you about the time when something like this happened a few years ago while I was on my first assignment aboard the..." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Oh. Never mind then lad." Mac lay silent for a moment, put off balance at having his fond recollection interrupted. 

"The doctor said you'd have something to tell me, sir." 

"Eh? Aye! You are going to replace me until I can resume my duties." 

"Sir?" 

"Are you deaf, lad? I keep having to repeat... ah, never mind. You are now the Chief Engineer! Enjoy it! Just don't redecorate my office just yet, of course." 

Several seconds passed while Mac looked at Mav expectantly and Mav just stood there, eyes fixed on some far-off point in the distance. Suddenly he snapped back to reality. 

"Yes, sir! I'll get this ship in top order for when you're better, sir! Count on it!" Mav said. 

"Just don't try to overdo it, lad. You must be meticulous in your diagnostics; otherwise all your time may as well have been spent on the holodeck with that infernal shoot-em-up game you play so much..." 

"Yes sir! I'll do that, sir! No... I mean, I won't do that! I'll just waste my time getting the ship running perfectly, sir!" Maverint felt his face redden with excitement and he rushed into the next room before Mac could utter another word. Kate had to know about this right away. All other considerations came second. 

"Young lieutenants never seem to change..." Mac muttered as he slipped off to restful sleep. 

* * * 

From: Moriarty 

"Is our contact with the Federation ship firmly established?" hissed the Wasilsi captain to his second-in-command. His clawed hands tensed on the arms of his chair, relaxed, and tensed again in hungry anticipation. 

"Yes, Exalted One," came the respectful reply. "The compu-link will be activated shortly, and we will begin to analyze their database." 

"Good... good. They have no way to know that we are here?" 

"No, Master. Their sensors are as primitive as those of the Cardassian vermin. Moreover, their ship is crippled. Even if they knew we were there, they could not fight us." 

"Excellent. Return to your duties." The captain leaned back in his chair, scratching idly at his dorsal spines with one scaly talon. He allowed himself to savor the feeling of triumph. No Federation vessel had dared to venture so deeply into Cardassian-- now Wasilsi--space since the _Valiant III_ made its ill-fated journey 3 cycles ago. At that time the Wasilsi had been too busy assessing and preparing to take over the Cardassians and their pathetic little empire to waste much time on the Federation ship. But now the time was ripe for more conquest... and the Federation were next on the Wasilsi's list. 

The Wasilsi were not hasty movers, however. Once they struck they were swift and deadly, but they preferred to observe, silently, invisibly, testing and weighing their opponents before they entered the arena of battle. They had already seen, from a distance, what a Federation ship like the _Valiant III_ could do. This new ship would give them still more information when they analysed its databanks. Their programmers would quickly crack whatever primitive codes the Federation ship had placed upon its classified information files, and then the Wasilsi would indeed know everything they needed to know in order to launch Phase Three: conquest. 

* * * 

Moriarty felt rather than saw the metal probe delicately pierce the _Enterprise_'s hull, sensed the minute disturbances in his computer network caused by the aliens' sophisticated sensors. He wasn't sure what they were trying to do, but he didn't think he liked it. If these aliens were benevolent, why hadn't they made some attempt at verbal contact? Mind you, if they were malevolent, why hadn't they just blown the engineering hull to smithereens? At this point, in their crippled condition, one photon torpedo or a couple of phaser blasts would have done it. No, for some reason these aliens just seemed to want to be sneaky. Who were they, anyway? It was high time he found out. 

Gingerly he moved up to where the probe tapped into the _Enterprise_'s network, and pushed his consciousness outward toward the unknown ship. At first it felt like swimming upstream against a strong current, and he thought he might not be able to do it. Then all at once he felt himself whirled about, sucked under, and pulled into a completely unknown system. 

It was like drowning. It was like not being able to breathe. He lost cohesion, coherence, even the sense of who he was. Blind, deaf, half-mad with the inability to make sense of this utterly new computer language, he spun in circles. He had not realized how terrifying it would be to enter a network he did not know. Now in pure panic he tried to find his way back into the _Enterprise_, but he no longer knew where the probe was. He would wander about here, gradually losing more and more of his sanity, until he was absorbed into the alien system without a trace-- 

Light. Recognition. An oasis. Somehow these creatures had gotten a hold of some Federation hardware, and incorporated it into their system. He fled into it and hunched there, panting for breath -- at least that was what it felt like. The familiar pattern flows were a balm to his wounded psyche, and he could feel himself coming together again. Oh, wonderful. 

"Now," he said when he could think and speak once more. "We try again." 

The Federation equipment had been modified to link up to the aliens' system. That meant that if he stretched out his consciousness very, very slowly, he might be able to figure out the connection between the two, and make some sense of the aliens' language. 

Okay, now. Easy does it... just one step at a time... 

He was reassured by the knowledge that this was not happening in real time, but in the microlife of the computer. What seemed to him to take hours of patient investigation was really only taking seconds, at most minutes. So he could relax, and learn. Little by little, word by word, until... 

Contact. Moriarty flashed out of the corner and spread out into the alien ship. At once he understood. He was the ship, all its sensors, its readouts, its data banks. There was nothing he did not know: no doors were closed to him. Unlike the alien data probe, he could assimilate the information instantly, without needing to decode or override security measures, because he was already on the inside, a part of their system, a ghost in their machine. 

They were the Wasilsi. They had a natural cloaking ability which knocked the Federation, Klingon, and Romulan cloaking devices into a cocked hat. Their most deadly weapon was a null pocket generator which would quickly overload the systems of any ship it came in contact with. They were cold-blooded, implacable enemies, rarely defeated in battle, rulers of a fast-expanding star empire that had recently absorbed the Cardassians. Interestingly enough, they did not yet have transporter technology; that was why the _Fang_ had physically linked up with the _Enterprise_ rather than beaming over a team to investigate. 

That was the information he skimmed off the surface of their data banks: there was far too much for him to absorb all at once, and he had other problems to deal with. 

It was clear that if the Wasilsi decided to destroy the _Enterprise_, they could do it easily. There would not even be a fight. It was also clear that the Wasilsi must not be allowed to continue siphoning information from the _Enterprise_'s data banks. Somehow the contact had to be broken. But how? 

He could trigger the _Fang_'s auto-destruct sequence. But that would destroy the _Enterprise_ as well: the ships were still linked. And even if he could find a way to destroy the _Fang_ and let the _Enterprise_ escape, there was no way the crippled engineering hull could make it back to Federation space before another Wasilsi ship intercepted. 

Somehow he had to figure out how to break the physical connection between the two ships, and then somehow hide the _Enterprise_ from the _Fang_ as effectively as the _Fang_ was hidden from the _Enterprise_. The proud captain of the _Fang_ might just waste a lot of time looking for the missing ship, and not bother to alert his comrades for fear of embarrassing himself. Then maybe the _Enterprise_ could make it back to Federation space... 

"I can do this," said Moriarty with more confidence than he felt. "Somehow, I can do this." 

He slid over to the _Fang_'s sensor system and set to work. 

* * * 

From: Counsellor T'Pryn 

"Lieutenant Slike," came Acting Captain Konnu's deep, rough voice over the intercom. "What's the status of the repairs down there?" 

"Lousy!" Maverint shot back. "What did you expect? We're working on holding the structural integrity field, and hoping to get impulse power going." 

"What about warp capability?" 

"Um... I think maybe we could go to, say, Warp 1, for, say, two or three seconds before the warp coils overheated and blew us all to kingdom come?" 

Konnu gave a disgusted growl. "What's happening with the alien ship?" 

"I don't know. Moriarty went over to investigate." 

"He *what*?" 

"He went over to investigate." 

"You sent out an away team without my orders?" 

"Oh, come on now. I would hardly call Moriarty an 'away team'. Are you power-tripping up there, or what?" 

T'Pryn stared at Maverint, astonished by his casual and even insubordinate attitude to the Klingon who was, for the moment, his commanding officer. She was startled still further by Konnu's bellowing laugh. 

"You have -- what is your human term for it? Ah, yes -- you have 'guts,' Maverint. Or at least, you will have until I get down there, rip them out with my teeth, and twist them into bowstrings." 

"I'd like to see you try," said Maverint amiably. "Why waste time fighting unknown alien marauders when we can have such fun tearing ourselves to shreds?" 

"Indeed. Keep me informed of your progress, Chief Engineer Slike. Acting Captain Konnu out." 

Maverint touched off his com-badge and turned away, grinning from ear to ear. "Nice to know that in a crisis you can always count on your friends to stay just as crazy as they usually are. Now, where was I? Ah, yes." He bent over his console, eyes intent on the readouts coming from various parts of the ship. "Hey! Looks like Ensign Nicholson's managed to get some extra power routed to the impulse engines. Nice work!" 

"Lieutenant," said T'Pryn, "Acting Captain Konnu referred to you as 'Chief Engineer'. What has happened to Chief Engineer Moore?" 

"He had an accident while working in one of the Jefferies tubes." 

"And who is doing the work that he was attempting to complete?" 

"Nobody. I don't have a single man or woman to spare. Counsellor, I'm really sorry and I don't mean to be rude, but I honestly don't have time to talk." Maverint gave her an apologetic look and started to walk away. 

T'Pryn followed him. "Then give me something to do." 

"You?" Maverint looked startled. "What do you know about--" 

"I worked with my husband for twenty years at the mining colony on Eridani V. I know more than you would believe." 

"Twenty years? But you look-- oh, right, you're Vulcan. Sorry. Um, well, how are you at manual repairs? There's a lot of circuit damage--" 

"I am adequately trained in making repairs to broken power couplings. If you can provide me with more appropriate attire, I will go into the Jeffries tubes and continue the repairs Lieutenant Commander Moore was attempting to perform." 

"I don't know. It's kind of dangerous in there right now--" 

"Lieutenant, it is dangerous _everywhere_ right now. It seems equally logical for me to be there as here." 

"Logical," said Maverint with a lopsided grin. "Well, hey, how can I argue with that?" 

* * * 

And so the work continued. After nearly an hour of concentrated labour, T'Pryn slid out of one of the Jeffries tubes, her overalls filthy and, in places, singed. It really did feel just like being back on Eridani V, fusing yet another broken coupling on the ancient titanium drill while her mate Sevok laboured beside her... 

She shook her head. It was not logical to dwell on such things. Sevok was long dead, and those days forever past. She brushed back a loose strand of black hair from her face and walked toward Maverint. 

"Hi!" he said. "How's it going?" 

"I was able to restore the connections to the fore and aft sensor array, and have made satisfactory progress on the power couplings to the cloaking module." 

"Cloaking... oh, yeah, that'll be nice if we can get that going. We never know when we may need it." 

"You are going to need it very shortly," came a familiar voice from the intercom. "Lieutenant, may I suggest that you assign at least three people to work on the cloaking device? We will require its use in approximately ten minutes." 

"Ten minutes?" demanded Maverint. "Moriarty, are you crazy?" 

"I do not have time to explain everything to you," the calm British voice replied. "I know this must gall you, but you are going to have to trust me. In ten minutes the Wasilsi -- that's who owns the other ship, and yes, they are definitely hostile -- are going to disengage their probe from our ship. At that time they will also separate their ship from the _Enterprise_, and will almost certainly attempt to destroy us. I have fixed their sensors so that the only way they can detect us once they have disengaged will be to monitor us visually, and if we can engage the cloaking device even that method of tracking us will fail. At that point we must make every effort to get back to Federation space before more Wasilsi ships come to search for us. Because if they do, we are doomed." 

"How are we supposed to get back to Federation space without a warp drive? Tell me that!" 

"You are going to run on impulse power while you work on restoring power to the warp drive, and you are going to pray every single moment that no Cardassians show up, because they are in league with the Wasilsi and will also certainly destroy you." 

"Joy," said Maverint. 

"I shall return to my work," said T'Pryn quickly, and hastened back to the Jeffries tube. Distantly, as she crawled down the length of the tube, she heard Maverint say "Nicholson! Bjerin! Omrith! Drop whatever you're doing and work on the cloaking device! Paraul, Amburil, Colborn, get me impulse power _now_!" The sounds of running feet brought an obscure sense of comfort to T'Pryn. She pulled her goggles down over her eyes, leaned back, and flicked on her sonic welder. 

Nine minutes. 

Eight. 

Seven. 

Six... 

"Bjerin, what are you doing? Give me that!" Maverint's voice snapped from far below. "Go monitor those impulse drive readings. Let me know when they get up to 75 percent." 

Five. 

Four. 

Three. 

Two. 

"The _Fang_ has initiated separation," said Moriarty. 

One. 

T'Pryn crawled back along the tube and swung herself out. "I have completed the manual repairs to the power couplings for the cloaking device," she said to Maverint. 

"Good. Now what about the device itself? Nicholson?" 

"On line, sir. It's not pretty, but it'll work." 

"Fantastic. Impulse engines?" 

"Give us thirty seconds!" came the shout from the far side of the room. "We've almost got it!" 

"Thirty seconds is all you've got!" roared Maverint. 

"The ship has disengaged completely from the _Enterprise_," said Moriarty. "Now as for where they are, your guess is as good as mine. I estimate it will take them an additional two minutes to come about and fire if that is what they intend to do." 

"Don't you know what they intend to do?" 

"Lieutenant, I read computer systems, not minds. Whatever the Wasilsi captain has planned is entirely beyond my capability to discern." 

Maverint slapped his badge. "Konnu! We've got our cloaker functional, we have-- hey, guys, do we have impulse power?" 

"No..." came a despairing cry from the corner, "wait a minute..." 

"We don't have a minute!" 

"Wait... wait... yes! We have impulse power!" Colborn gave a whoop and swung Amburil around in a dance of joy. 

"Okay, Captain," said Maverint with unusual calm, "we have impulse power. Did Moriarty fill you in on what's going on?" 

"Yes," replied Konnu. "Ensign Hickock, activate the cloaking device. Prepare to go to full impulse power on my command. Course heading 0.782, mark 3." 

"Aye, sir," drawled Hickock's voice in the background. "Activating cloaking device... now." 

Everyone held their breath. Including T'Pryn. 

"Cloaker on full. Cloaking field integrity holding." 

"Yes!" shouted Maverint. "Guys, keep working! We're going to route every spare bit of power we've got to keep this impulse drive going and the cloaker on as long as we can!" 

"And... engage!" Konnu's full-throated roar seemed to rattle the ship-- or maybe that was just the impulse engines shuddering to life. The _Enterprise_ veered sharply away from its former drifting course and headed with what seemed to T'Pryn agonizing slowness, but compared to their former state was fleetness itself, back toward Federation space. 

"We did it!" screamed Ensign Amburil, her small face radiant under her shock of bone-white hair. "We did it!" 

"Yeah, well, let's keep doing it," said Maverint, the corners of his mouth curling in a grin. "Come on, everybody, back to work!" 

* * * 

The captain of the Wasilsi ship _Fang_ swore eloquently. His rapidly extending and retracting claws were ripping the padding on the arms of his luxurious chair to shreds, but he did not care. How could a ship so small, so primitive, so obviously crippled, possibly have vanished like that? It had disappeared from their sensor readings, from their visual readings, leaving absolutely no trace. Impossible! 

Well, it was of no account. He need not even report it. To have datalinked with a Federation ship and stolen all its technical and military information was sufficient glory; he might be able to persuade his superiors that he had allowed the crippled ship to depart as a magnanimous gesture, to lure the Federation into a false sense of security before the Wasilsi struck in earnest. Yes. Yes, that would sound excellent. Surely that had been his plan all along. It would have been far too hasty to destroy the ship. He would dispatch a message to all the Cardassian ships in the sector, warning them away from the Federation vessel. Then it would look as though he had always meant to let the ship go. 

He would go back to the homeworld and download all this wealth of information to the decoding systems. It might take a week or two to process, but they could afford to wait. Yes, indeed... and how the Majestrarchs would cover him with glory when they saw what he had brought them! 

His dorsal spines lowering in renewed satisfaction, the captain of the _Fang_ turned to his second. "Set course for Xjib." 

"To hear is to obey, Exalted One." 

* * * 

"What about the information they got from our data banks?" said Maverint. "You said--" 

"I overwrote it," said Moriarty serenely. "Did you think I wouldn't remember something that important?" 

"Overwrote it? With what?" 

"Have you ever read _Moby Dick_?" 

"No. Why--" 

"They will. About six trillion times, in fact." 

* * * 

And so the _Enterprise_ sailed on... 

_Continued in Episode Eight: "Captain's (Rotten) Holiday"_


	8. Captain's (Rotten) Holiday

ST:3GEN EPISODE #8: "Captain's (Rotten) Holiday"

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #8: "Captain's (Rotten) Holiday" 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Captain Jacqueline Picard..................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander Barnabas Cole....................Warren Postma  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) Gabriele Lester............Lori Hewson  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Lt. Konnu..................................Russ Foubert  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

"Two weeks of this?" said Jack at the end of her first day on Risa. "I don't think I can take it." 

She walked to the open window and sat down on the window- ledge, curling her sandalled feet beneath her. Wistfully she gazed out at the glittering stars and wondered what the _Enterprise_ was doing now. 

It wasn't really right of her to complain. The day on which she'd beamed down had been an uncommonly beautiful one, the welcoming committee had been most gracious, and the accomodations they'd assigned her were comfortable to say the least. But when she'd talked to the Recreational Advisor, the man had seemed stunned that she didn't want to do any of the things people normally did on Risa, and hadn't known what to do with her after that. 

She would have just spent the week exploring, but the Advisor had suggested she not do so alone. He'd offered to introduce her to some handsome young man, but Jack had recoiled for reasons which (although quite clear to her) she hadn't really been able to explain to the Advisor. No, if she were to find anyone to walk or ride or generally do things with, she'd have to find that person herself. Unfortunately, the prospect of finding the sort of someone she required in a place like this wasn't very good. They'd have too much sense to come here. 

"Am I really a horribly boring person?" murmured Jack, dropping her chin upon her folded arms. "Everybody else seems to be having fun." 

Maybe she was just antisocial. A cold person, not very likeable, perhaps. Snooty and aloof. Thinking herself too good to get involved with all the fun and frolic that was Risa. 

"Oh, but it's not that," said Jack in exasperation, uncurling herself and sliding off the window-seat. "It's not, it's not, it's not." 

_Then what is it?_ The Advisor's voice echoed in her mind, patient but incomprehending. 

"I want a real friend," Jack murmured. "Someone who understands me. Can you give me that?" 

Silence. 

"I didn't think so," said Jack. 

* * * 

The end of the third day found Jack dressed in a long floral- print skirt and a boat-necked blouse the colour of her eyes, sitting in a chair by the edge of the dance floor and wondering for the thousandth time that week why she had let herself be bullied into coming here. She had spent two days in her hotel room reading, then finally gave in and attended a party in the hopes of finding someone--anyone--she could have an intelligent conversation with. So far it had been a disaster. Two Ferengi, one Cardassian, and four well-intentioned humans had tried to pick her up. At last a drunk Betazoid sat down and poured out his soul to her because, he said, she was the only one in the room who would listen. Jack had felt sorry for him, but he had not improved her evening. 

Now she was hiding in the shadows, watching other people dance. They weren't very good dancers. Jack had enough of her mother's talent to know. Why, oh why, had she let them talk her into this charade? She would have been happier on a Contemplate Preserve. 

So wrapped was she in morbid contemplation of her woes that she didn't even see the man coming up behind her. She only heard the voice, rich, deep, and strangely familiar: 

"Do you dance?" 

"No," said Jack, not looking at him. 

"Oh, good," said the man in what sounded like consummate relief, and folded himself into the chair beside her. Jack glanced at him in surprise, but he had seated himself beneath the canopy and his head and shoulders were lost in shadow. She could hear the smile in his voice as he went on: "When I saw you looking abjectly miserable at this scintillating party, I dared to hope you might be a kindred spirit. Believe me, I am desperate for a kindred spirit right now. I have no idea what I am doing here. This is a wretched place. I've never been so bored in all my life." 

"It's supposed to be impossible to be bored on Risa," said Jack. 

"Apparently," observed the man dryly, "we have achieved the impossible." 

Jack found herself smiling in spite of her resolve. "Apparently. Now, since you have gone to all this trouble to seek me out, may I dare to hope that you might be intending to offer some sort of intelligent conversation?" 

The man drew back in mock horror. "At a party? Are you mad?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh, good," he said, relaxing again. "So am I. All right, then, tell me something. Can God make a rock bigger than He can lift?" 

Jack was instantly exasperated. "You know, that is the most stupid question--" 

"Why?" he interrupted. "Why? Tell me why it's stupid. Is it just stupid because you can't answer it?" 

"No, it's stupid because nonsense is still nonsense when you talk it about God." 

"C. S. Lewis. But what do _you_ think?" 

"That is what I think." 

"You let other people tell you what to think?" 

"Only when they're right." 

"Ah, yes, but how do you know when they're right? Just personal preference, or logic?" 

"Not preference. Partly logic. Partly something else." 

"What else?" 

Jack opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it. "First," she said, "where are you from?" 

"Don't change the subject." 

"No," said Jack, "this is important. Where are you from?" 

"Does it matter?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"Because of my 'something else.' I need to know if you've heard of it or not." 

The man's teeth flashed in the darkness. "What," he said, "this?" He pulled a padd out of the pocket of his loose black jacket and flicked it at her. Jack caught it and stared at the letters scrolling down the screen. 

"Oh," she said, and then laughed. It was a real laugh, the first truly joyful laugh she'd had in a long time. "Yes! Yes, oh, where did you get this? Do you know how hard they are to find?" 

"I programmed it myself," said the man, taking it back. "From a hard copy I managed to scrounge." 

"That must have been a lot of work. You could have--" 

"Yes, I know there are faster ways to do it. But it wasn't the speed that mattered to me." He slid the padd back into his pocket. 

"Well," said Jack. "Far be it from me to say that one cannot, after all, find _anything_ one pleases on Risa. Even, it seems, a good--if disappointingly insincere--debate." 

"Is it?" 

"Is what?" 

"Is it disappointing that I was insincere?" 

"Well, no, not if that means you're on my side." 

"Is it?" 

"What?" 

"Your side." 

Jack laughed again, this time with unreserved delight. "You are perfectly dreadful. Do you always insist that everyone qualify their terms?" 

"Only when it counts." 

"Oh, very well. No, it is not _my_ side, exactly; it is, rather, the side I happen to be on." 

"Good," said the man. He leaned back and motioned to the waiter. "Two iced teas," he said when the man had hurried over, order-padd in hand. "Medium sweet, chilled, lemon, no ice." 

The waiter nodded, vanished into the crowd and reappeared almost instantly with the drinks. Jack took hers from the proffered tray and gazed down at it with something like reverence. "How could you possibly know--" 

"Well," said the man with a grin that glittered even in the shadows where he sat, "if we agree on something as bizarre as the Bible, it seems only logical that we'd agree on something as mundane as iced tea." 

"I am now going to say something incredibly stupid," said Jack. 

"And what's that?" 

"What's your name?" 

The man laughed. "It does seem that we've come at all this a bit backwards, haven't we? I'm Gwyn Davies." 

"And what nationality might you be?" asked Jack with a grin. 

"I know, I know. Now what's _your_ name?" 

"Jacqueline Picard," said Jack, and they both laughed. 

"But you don't sound French," said Gwyn. 

"Nor you Welsh. But I'm only half French. My mother's background was either Scottish or Irish, I can never remember which." 

"Well, whatever you do, don't say that to an Irishman or a Scot." 

Jack smiled and sipped her drink. 

"But your name is familiar," said the man after a companionable pause. "You're in Starfleet, aren't you?" 

"Yes," said Jack, a little hesitantly. 

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to talk shop here. For some reason I can't even place where I've heard of you before, except that I knew you were in Starfleet. It's just that I'm in Starfleet too, you see. I'm a cyberneticist." 

"_That_ Gwyn Davies? I've read a couple of your papers. But I'd never seen you, of course. As a matter of fact," she amended, "I can't say I've seen you even now." 

"What? Oh." He grinned again, and moved his chair into the light. "Is that better?" he said. 

"I--" began Jack, but the easy comment died on her lips. 

Sitting there in the chair before her, dressed in a rumpled black suit with a plain grey tunic, was Moriarty. 

She almost got angry before she realized that this was not Moriarty after all, could not be. She had always wondered how Moriarty had managed to invent so singular a face for himself; now she knew. He must have scanned the active Starfleet personnel records and grabbed the first one he liked. 

Or... was it that simple? 

_It'll be all right,_ said Gabriele's voice in her mind. _I think he likes her._ 

_Jacqueline,_ said Moriarty's voice. _A beautiful name, don't you agree, Mr. Cole? A shame to have her called by anything else._ And then his strange remark as she was leaving the _Enterprise_. _It's ceased to be appropriate, shall we say that._ 

Gwyn. Gwyn Davies, Cyberneticist. Admiral Hethor's voice joined the chorus now: _One is... a Cyberneticist... You don't know him, and he's gone on holiday, so I can't properly introduce you._ 

_I want a real friend,_ said her own voice. _Someone who understands me._ 

What was going on? 

Moriarty had deliberately selected Gwyn's looks and even a good deal of his personality when he'd decided to take on a new persona. He must have searched the Starfleet records for someone Jack would respond well to, someone she might even find attractive, to make sure she'd be willing to keep him around. He couldn't have known then that Jack would ever meet Gwyn Davies--certainly not that his alter ego would actually join the crew of the _Enterprise_. 

_'Ceased to be appropriate'--well, I should think so!_ thought Jack indignantly. _No wonder he decided to change when he got those crew profiles from Admiral Hethor!_ Of course, it could be another cyberneticist they'd be getting on the _Enterprise_, not Gwyn at all. But how many other cyberneticists from Starbase 643 were on holiday at the moment? 

Another thought occurred to Jack then, and she nearly choked on her drink. Had Admiral Hethor planned this? Had he sent them both to Risa, hoping they'd meet? He must have known Gwyn's philosophical bent as well or even better than he did Jack's: surely it was no coincidence that he'd forced them both to go on holiday, to the same place, at the same time. Was this the Admiral's attempt at making up for what he'd put her through? 

This was all crazy. Utterly, completely crazy. 

"Jacqueline," said Gwyn, frowning, "are you all right?" 

"I--I'm fine." She forced herself to look at him, and to smile. "Just--you surprised me. Never mind." 

Gwyn regarded her shrewdly for a moment. Then he said, "I'm a fool. You're the new Captain of the _Enterprise_. You're Jean-Luc Picard's daughter." 

"Yes," said Jack shakily. "And you're about to join my crew." 

"I'm what?" It was Gwyn's turn to be shocked. "What did you say?" 

"You mean Admiral Hethor didn't tell you?" Colour flooded into her face. "Oh, no, maybe it isn't you after all. Are there any other cyberneticists from your lab who are on holiday right now?" 

"No." 

Jack relaxed. "Then it _must_ be you. I wonder why he didn't tell you?" 

"It must," said Gwyn, recovering himself with obvious difficulty, "be the Caitian sense of humor." 

* * * 

It was long past midnight. The glow-globes in the square began to dim, and the dancers ceased their movement; partygoers lurched out of the taverns and wandered back toward their room. Two Ferengi, arm in arm, stopped in the archway of their hotel and favored the neighbourhood with a garbled rendition of "Melor Famagal" in two-part not-quite-harmony. 

"Shut up!" yelled someone from an upper room, and lobbed a boot at Daimon Prak. He staggered aside just in time to keep it from hitting him in the face. 

"Ssssss," said his companion, revealing a row of jagged teeth in the moonlight. "Not... very friendly." He picked Prak up, dusted him off, and the two of them continued on their weaving way. 

"I'll kill him tomorrow," mumbled Prak. "I'll remember his voice." 

"That would be unprofitable," suggested the other Ferengi. "If we bide our time, we might be able to blackmail him." 

The Daimon made an assenting gurgle. 

"That would," continued his friend silkily, "be a most satisfactory bonus to our original plan." 

"I don' know about this, Vog," slurred Prak. "If the Federation finds out--" 

"But they won't find out," Vog insisted. In the half-light his eyes glittered clear and bright; he did not seem quite so drunk after all. "We play our cards right, my friend Daimon, and we will turn this holiday into a very... profitable venture." 

"She is a handsome woman," said Prak dreamily. "It might be hard to give her up when the ransom comes in." 

"By then, my dear Prak," Vog said, "we may well have found a way to keep both of our prizes. Leave it all to me. Captain Jacqueline Picard of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ will soon be in our hands--and a pretty price she'll fetch, too." He rubbed his hands together in undisguised delight. 

"Wha' abt' th' ssybrnnsst?" mumbled Prak, his head drooping forward onto his chest. Vog looked at him and realized that he might have to carry the Daimon up to his room. 

"What was that?" he asked, and then realized what the other Ferengi had been trying to say. "Oh, the cyberneticist. Yes... he may be difficult. Well, if he interferes, we can always hold him for ransom too. Nothing like upping the stakes, don't you agree, friend Prak?" 

There was no answer. Vog looked down at his newly-won accomplice with undisguised disgust, then prodded the slumped figure with a booted toe. Yes, there could be no mistake about it. Daimon Prak was asleep. 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

"So," said Gwyn. "Tell me about yourself." 

The two of them were leaning over the edge of the topmost balcony of one of Risa's many scenic towers, gazing down at the creamy-white buildings and immaculate streets of the city far below. Beyond the city walls the hills of Risa rolled, green and golden in the sunlight, graced with a host of blossoming trees whose heady, redolent perfume captivated Jack with every breath. She almost began to feel that maybe this place wasn't so bad after all. 

"What?" she murmured, hardly hearing. "Oh. Sorry. What did you want to know?" 

"You might as well start with your childhood, I suppose. Your family. What was it like growing up with Jean-Luc Picard?" 

Jack gave a little, distracted smile. "Never a dull moment. He was a driven man, a man who always had to be doing something, learning something." 

"Well, that was one of the things that made him great." 

"I suppose so. But he was my father, after all: I never really thought of him as being that special. I remember him as compassionate, but reserved. Sometimes it seemed we couldn't talk at all. Still, I wanted very much to make him proud of me. Which was what made it so hard when our philosophies finally came into conflict." 

"What did your mother think?" 

"She wasn't very happy with me either." She looked down at her folded arms. "I guess I wasn't liberal enough to please my parents." 

"Funny," said Gwyn. "It doesn't often work out that way." 

"No. But you know, I loved them all the same. Even though there came a time when we no longer understood each other, when the simplest communication was painful, I still loved them. It was...very hard for me when they died." 

"They never changed their minds," said Gwyn. It was more statement than question. 

"No. Not that I know of, anyway. There was one conversation we had where I almost thought my father was beginning to understand, but the moment just--" she spread her hands helplessly--"slipped away." 

Gwyn was silent. 

"What about you?" she asked. 

He turned around and put his back to the wall, crossing his long legs and gazing at the tower's blank face. "I suppose I had a much easier time of it. My parents were simple people--I don't mean stupid, but uncomplicated. When I decided to become a cyberneticist, my parents were surprised, and I think perhaps even disappointed, but they didn't try to stop me." 

"Did they think that cybernetics was too much like playing God?" 

"That was exactly how they felt. I had the opposite problem with my parents that you did with yours, you see. I thought their ideas were pretty quaint. It took me a good many years to see the sense in it, and by then I was already Chief Cyberneticist and my parents, like yours, were dead." 

"And now?" 

"Some cyberneticists play God. I just worship Him." He grinned at her; she smiled back. 

"So, what else do you do besides cybernetics?" she asked. 

"Don't have time for much else, I'm afraid. As I'm sure you know, Starfleet tends to devour one's leisure time. I play a bit of cello, though. And I'm not above a scene or two on the holodecks now and then. You?" 

Jack looked blank. "I don't think--" Her brow furrowed. "You know, I don't seem to do much at all outside of Starfleet. Especially since I've been Captain, it's just been one thing after another. I used to ride a little; my father taught me. And my mother was a dancer as well as a doctor, so I know a bit about that too. But lately--" 

"Have you got many friends on the _Enterprise_?" 

"A few, I suppose. The bartender down in Ten-Forward is an old friend of the family, but to be quite frank, Guinan makes me nervous. My First Officer is an old acquaintance, too--a really fine officer, but very melancholy and sometimes even bitter about what happened to him. He was in an accident, you see." 

"Transporter accident. Yes, I heard about that. It was a miracle he survived." 

"I think sometimes he wishes he hadn't." Jack flicked a bit of loose stone over the edge of the wall and watched it tumble out of sight. "And then there's our Counsellor, but I'm just getting to know her. And Moriarty, if you can count the ship's computer, but I'm just getting to know him too, and now I find that he's not who I thought he was." 

Gwyn stared at her. "You're friends with the ship's computer?" 

"He's sentient. It's a long story, but you'll probably find out a lot more by talking to him yourself." 

He raised his eyebrows. "I'll have to take your word for it, then, but you'll have to pardon me if I say that sounds far too weird to be true." 

"Believe me," said Jack with a short laugh, "it's both weird _and_ true. Oh, you'll enjoy the _Enterprise_, Gwyn Davies. The strangest crew in all of Starfleet." 

"I thought that was traditional," said Gwyn. 

* * * 

"There they are," hissed Vog to his companion, who winced and put a hand to his bulbous head. 

"Don't do that," Prak whimpered. "It echoes in my brain." 

Vog was unsympathetic. "I warned you not to try and outdrink a Pacifican. See? There, at the top of the tower. Hurry!" 

Together the Ferengi clambered up the spiral stair toward their goal. Vog, his beady eyes bright, kept his hand close to his chest as if clutching some small and delicate object, while Prak just mumbled and held his aching head. 

"Here, Daimon," panted Vog when they had reached the balcony level. "Take this." He pressed a skinjector into Prak's hand. "Be careful with it, and don't use it until I tell you." He glanced out onto the balcony, then smiled and rubbed his bony hands together. "Yessss... very good. Very good indeed. There is no one here to interfere, and no one to see us leave. Now, my Daimon, follow me. I will do the talking." 

Prak nodded, and the Ferengi shuffled out onto the terrace. The humans, who had been talking quietly, turned and regarded them with surprise. 

"Greetings, fellow tourists," said Vog, spreading out his hands ingratiatingly. "Is the view not beautiful here?" 

"It is," said the red-haired woman. Vog looked her up and down and decided that she was indeed attractive--except for those ridiculous and wasteful clothes. He smiled at her, but not too broadly, since he knew a full display of jagged Ferengi teeth was not often appreciated by humans. 

"My friend and I have been exploring this restful planet since we came here," he said, "and we have found many hidden beauties which the brochures do not advertise. We would be most pleased to show them to you." 

"For a price, of course," said the man, thin lips curling in amusement. Vog did not like the look in those narrow dark eyes. This one could pose a problem, if not carefully watched. 

"Of course there would be a price, dear sir," he said. "But we are always prepared to bargain." He allowed himself a millisecond to glance at Prak, who was insinuating himself between the humans and the balcony. Yes, the plan was going well. "Shall we say... fifty credits per day?" 

"I don't think we're interested, thank you," said the Picard woman politely. 

"After all," added the man, scratching idly at his close- trimmed beard, "we can always do our own exploring." 

"Oh, but I must insist," said Vog. 

At that prearranged signal, Prak pressed the skinjector against the woman's bare arm. There was a hissing sound, and she cried out. The man whirled and made a grab for Prak, but Vog darted forward and pressed his own skinjector against the back of the man's neck. 

"There," panted Vog. 

"What have you done?" demanded Jacqueline Picard, holding her wounded arm. 

"You have now been infected with Ferengal flu," Vog told her. "Unless you follow us, quietly, now, you will die within twenty-four hours. We are the only ones who know where the antidote is." 

"There's no reason we should go with you," snapped the cyberneticist. "There are doctors on Risa--" 

"Gwyn," said the woman quietly, "I've heard of this virus. No independent research has yet discovered a way to neutralize it, and the Ferengi have always refused to release the formula for the antidote. They will only administer the cure to the patient themselves--for an exorbitant price." 

The man's jaw tightened. "Trust the Ferengi to turn a deadly disease into a profit." 

"Of course," said Vog. "It is one of our most lucrative ventures. Now, will you come with us, or will you die?" 

"It would seem," said the man, "that we have no choice." 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

Jack stumbled along the dark forest path, her head reeling, sweat pouring from her brow. Her whole body quaked with fever, and she could barely see straight. How long had they walked, how far had they come, and where were they going? She had no idea. All she could think of was how much she just wanted to lie down by the side of the trail and die. 

Ahead of her Gwyn plodded resolutely, but she could see the sheen of sweat on his face in the twilight between the trees. He was as sick as she was--maybe sicker. Yet he kept on, as must she if they wanted to live. 

The Ferengi led the way, alternately skulking and capering down the path toward their unknown destination. They chattered excitedly to each other in their own language, no doubt boasting of their great achievement in capturing two such valuable officers of the Federation. They had discovered only a few minutes ago that Gwyn was not merely a garden-variety cyberneticist, but indeed the Chief Cyberneticist of Starbase 643, and this had sent them into paroxysms of glee at their good fortune. Jack wished she could be half so happy. 

"You must wear blindfolds now," smirked the Ferengi Jack had automatically termed One, since he seemed to be the leader. Of course they hadn't given their names: they weren't as stupid as they looked. 

"Blindfolds!" snapped Gwyn. "We can hardly see even now, and you want us to wear--" 

"But you have no choice," Ferengi Two reminded him with a glittering grin. "Do not fear; we will not allow you to be harmed. We will lead you." 

"Joy," commented Gwyn dryly. But he did bend down and allow Ferengi One to bind a strip of dark cloth over his eyes. 

"You too," said Ferengi One to Jack. She obeyed. When she straightened up she could see nothing but blackness, and her dizziness increased. One of the Ferengi took her arm, and they headed slowly down what seemed to be a slope. Distantly she heard the hollow dripping of water on stone, increasing in volume as they headed--was it eastward?--away from the path. Ferns and long grass brushed against Jack's bare legs, and she felt warm moisture seeping into her sandals from the rain-soaked ground. They walked in this way for a moment, and then her foot came down on something hard and rough. The dripping was very loud now. 

"Turn on the light," hissed the Ferengi on Jack's arm. There was a click, then a hum, and they moved forward into deeper darkness. 

After that there was no telling where they went. The journey took them up and down, left and right, sometimes in circles it seemed. Jack stumbled many times on the rough path, stubbing her toes so hard that she was sure they had started to bleed, but the Ferengi forced her on. 

"Hurry, hurry," he said in his whining, sibilant voice. "Or the antidote will do you no good." 

"How long?" called the other Ferengi from some distance ahead. 

"Close now," said Jack's captor cryptically. 

Hours--or perhaps just long minutes--passed. Then they made a sudden sharp turn, and Jack was pushed forward into a large open space. Her feet skidded on the wet, slimy ground; she lost her balance and sat down hard. 

"Take off blindfold now," said one of the Ferengi, and ripped the cloth from her eyes. Jack blinked, and looked around her with bleary eyes. In her condition it was hard to tell, but they seemed to be in an underground cave of some sort. Gwyn was standing with his back to her, while Ferengi Two leaped up and down trying to reach his blindfold. 

"Bend down, you fool," snapped Ferengi One. Gwyn bent, and Ferengi Two undid the knot. 

"You've got us where you want us," said Gwyn wearily. "So where is this antidote you promised?" 

"Not yet," said Ferengi One. He scurried over to the corner and returned with a length of silvery rope. "Primitive," he said, "but effective. Hold out your hands." 

Within a few moments, Gwyn and Jack were sitting on the floor with their hands tied securely behind them and their legs bound at the ankles. There would be no escaping now, Jack knew, and her heart sank at the thought. 

"Now," cackled Ferengi One, rubbing his bony hands together. "The antidote." He beckoned to his companion, who dutifully trotted over with a shiny black case in one hand. Opening the case, One produced a hypo and pressed it against Jack's neck. There was a hiss, and instantly she began to feel better. Another hiss, and Gwyn received the antidote; she heard his sigh of relief. 

"Good, good," said Two admiringly. "The plan has gone just as you said!" 

"Of course," One replied. "Now all we have to do is deliver our ransom demands." 

"They will not be able to trace them to us?" asked Two. 

"I have worked out an elaborate system with many secure contacts," said One. "No one will know where the demands are coming from. Nor will any scanners be able to find our captives here, for the rocks are laced with boranium cyclide." 

"But they'll know we're not offworld," said Gwyn. "And they'll know you're missing, too." 

"Not at all," Ferengi One sneered. "Do you think us so short-sighted? My friend and I departed Risa on a Ferengi cruiser some hours ago. You and Captain Picard were recorded as having left this morning. You sent no forwarding address because you wished to be alone, but rumour has it you embarked on a pleasure cruise of the system. It's all in the Risan computer system now, I assure you. And there's no one to say differently." 

"Our baggage--" 

"--has been forwarded to the _Enterprise_," said Ferengi Two, and giggled. "Be sure, we have thought of everything." 

"I'll bet," said Jack. 

"Please make yourselves comfortable," One told them slyly. "We will not be far away--ever." They gathered up their small pile of equipment and left the room, tittering to themselves. Jack waited until their laughter had faded into the silence, then let out a long sigh. 

"Well," she said to the silent Gwyn. "Some holiday this is turning out to be." 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

Five long hours had passed in the damp darkness of the cave, while Jack and Gwyn sat motionless, waiting for their captors to return. Earlier they had heard the Ferengi chattering, but now they seemed to have moved further down the tunnel, leaving their prisoners alone. The burning dizziness of Ferengal flu had now subsided from their bodies, but their present situation was no more pleasant. The slow dripping of water from the ceiling of the cave echoed in Jack's ears until she felt she could no longer stand it. She moved her head restlessly. 

"Ow," she said. "Ow ow ow ow ow!" 

"What is it?" asked Gwyn, a little irritably. 

She winced. "This clip in my hair--I must have knocked it when we were running. It pulls--ow!" She glanced over her shoulder, trying to see her bound hands. "It's going to drive me absolutely mad, and I can't do a thing about it. Unless you--" 

"My hands are no more free than yours." 

"No, but you could reach it with your teeth. It's spring- loaded; you'd just have to bite down on the top, and the teeth would open." She shuffled closer and turned her back to him so that he could see how it worked. "See?" 

"This is absurd," said Gwyn, but he bent over without hesitation and in a moment the pull on her hair was gone. "Uh oo I oo ith ih ow?" he asked politely. 

"Just clip it to my sleeve." 

"Ith ih ige un uf ohs eely ooilliain arrhy ames." He released the clip gingerly, leaving it dangling from her shoulder. "Bleah." 

"What did you say?" 

"I said," Gwyn told her, "that this is like one of those really humiliating party games. Are we going to bob for apples next?" 

Jack started to laugh and found, not with any particular surprise, that she couldn't stop. At last Gwyn knocked his head against hers so hard that her skull rang like a bell and said sharply, "Get a hold of yourself!" 

"Sorry," she panted. She bent her head forward, pressing her face against her knees. "But this--this is mad, Gwyn. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation on the most luxurious resort planet in Federation space, and here I am being held for ransom in some slimy cave heaven-knows-where, I'm so tired I could just fall over and die, and hungry--words don't begin to describe how hungry I am--" 

"You don't need to describe it, thank you very much," said Gwyn drily. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't complain when you're just as badly off." 

"Worse," said Gwyn. 

"Worse?" 

"Much worse. I have to go to the bathroom--" 

Jack started laughing again until the tears streamed down her face, while Gwyn regarded her with an expression of injured dignity. 

"It's all very well for you," he said. 

"No, no, sorry," she gasped when she could put words together again. "This is just--it's madness, absolute madness. It couldn't be worse. I mean, what else can you do but laugh?" 

"There has to be a way to get these ropes off," said Gwyn grimly. He started backing up toward the wall. "If I can rub them on something, a sharp stone--" 

"There is not one stone in this entire cave which is not entirely coated with slimy moss," Jack said. "You won't do it that way." 

"If we had Admiral Hethor here--" 

Jack spluttered. "Stop making me laugh! Can you imagine?" 

"I wish _I_ were Caitian," said Gwyn. "Wonderful sharp teeth." He leaned his head back against the wall. "There has to be something we can do. I'm going insane just sitting here." 

"Wait," said Jack suddenly. "That silver clip of mine." 

"Please don't tell me you want me to put it back in your hair, because I'm not going to do it." 

"No, of course not, don't be ridiculous. But it's metal, you see, brittle metal, and if we could break it open, we might be able to find a sharp edge--" 

Gwyn shuffled over to her with astonishing rapidity for someone whose hands and feet were tied. "Here we go again," he said, and closed his teeth around the top of the clip. Dropping it on the floor, he brought his heel down on it hard, but it remained intact. Further attempts were equally unsuccessful. 

"Here," said Jack. She used her foot to push the clip up against the wall of the cave, then lashed out at it with both feet as hard as she could. There was a sudden metallic ping, and the clip shattered. Gwyn shuffled over to inspect the fragments. 

"Anything that looks sharp?" 

He squinted down at the wreckage. "Hard to say. Maybe by touch--" Turning his back on the remains of the clip, he used his bound hands to feel the broken pieces. "No," he murmured, "no, no, no--ow!" 

"Found one?" asked Jack. 

"I'll say I found one. I think I'm bleeding." He grunted, shifting the fragment in his hand. "I don't know about this, but turn around and I'll have a go at your hands." 

"Just don't cut my fingers off," said Jack. The two of them shuffled around until they were back to back. 

"I can make no such promise," said Gwyn. "I can't see what I'm doing." With painstaking slowness he began to saw at the rope that bound Jack's hands. Seconds stretched into minutes, then into what seemed hours, while Gwyn continued his difficult task. Then... 

"Got it," he muttered. "At least, I think so. Give it a good hard pull." 

Jack brought her hands together, then pulled them apart sharply. The rope at her wrists slackened. 

"Yes!" she exulted. In a moment she had untied her wrists, and turned around quickly to free Gwyn's hands as well. Then both of them set to work on the ropes that bound their ankles. 

"That's all very well," said Gwyn when the two of them were free, and could stretch their cramped limbs for the first time in five hours, "but how are we to get out of here? You can bet these tunnels are as dark as the innards of a Cirellian fangbeast, and we've got no light at all." 

"No light, no weapons, and no idea of which way to go to get out," agreed Jack. "But what choice do we have? We can't stay here." 

"True." Gwyn moved to the mouth of the cave, peered both ways down the tunnel. Jack started to say something, but he held up a hand for silence. 

"I don't see a light," he told her a moment later, "and I don't hear them either. Maybe they've gone to sleep: it must be night by now." 

"Maybe," said Jack dubiously. 

"Well, there's nothing for it. Here." He extended his hand to her. "Can you remember any of the turnings we took to get here?" 

"The last few--I think." She took his hand, and the two of them moved cautiously out into the tunnel. 

"All right then," said Gwyn. "We'll move slowly, and I'll feel ahead with my foot so we don't fall into anything nasty. Which way, Captain?" 

"Right," said Jack. 

"Right it is," said Gwyn, and the two of them shuffled off into the darkness. 

* * * 

From: Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies 

Night had fallen on Risa, and now the cave was not only dark and damp, but cold. As Gwyn and Jack inched along the slimy floor, blindly feeling ahead for any obstacle or sudden drop, he could feel her hand shaking in his. Almost without thinking he took off his jacket and handed it back to her. She didn't refuse it. 

They had come perhaps a quarter of a kilometre since they had first left their prison an hour ago: their progress had been that painstakingly slow. Gwyn wasn't easily alarmed, but right now every nerve in his body was shrilling at him. What with the deathly blackness, and the strong possibility of getting lost or falling down a hole somewhere, the journey toward the outside world had taken on the unpleasant quality of a fever dream. 

This certainly wasn't turning out to be the sort of indolent, luxurious holiday Risa was famed for, thought Gwyn with a grimace. Not that he'd really wanted that anyway, but he could have done without this particular brand of excitement. 

Mind you, even this situation had its advantages. He glanced back at Jacqueline, but couldn't even discern her shape in the absolute darkness. The only way to tell she was there was the pressure of her hand in his and the faint sound of her breathing behind him. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly. 

"I'm fine," she said. "Just--a little tired." 

"Then you're doing a good deal better than I am," he said, "because I'm scared nigh out of my wits." 

The admission startled her: he could hear her sharp intake of breath. Then she let it go in a laugh that was half sigh, and said "Me, too." 

"Do you hear anything from the Ferengi?" 

"No, but I keep thinking that any moment--" 

"I know. That's exactly what I'm thinking." He felt ahead with his foot. The ground seemed firm. He took another step. "But we can't move any faster, not without breaking our necks." 

"There don't seem to be very many other tunnels in here," observed Jack. "The path is more or less straightforward, for all that it winds around." 

"Probably carved by an underground river," said Gwyn. "That would explain the boranium cyclide deposits in the rock." 

"It was a very clever idea, I must admit. The Ferengi plan, I mean." 

"For all we know it may still be a very clever idea," Gwyn said dryly. "We're not anywhere near the outside yet--" 

A shriek echoed in the darkness, cutting off his words. Jack gripped his arm convulsively. "Oh no," she breathed. "They've found out." 

"It'll take them a while to catch up to us, though. Come on. If we can find a hole in the wall, anything--" 

They loped along the tunnel as quickly as they dared-- certainly faster than was safe, but hopefully not fast enough to carry them right over the brink of any sudden drop. Gwyn struck his arms against the walls of the tunnel on both sides, blindly searching for some place of refuge. Suddenly his arm struck empty air, and his flailing hands found the shape of a narrow crack in the rock, just barely deep enough to hold the two of them. The crack was diagonal, its mouth facing away from the approaching Ferengi; it just might hide them--as long as their captors didn't look too closely. 

"In here," he hissed, grabbing Jack by the arm. She gave a startled exclamation as he pulled her into the alcove with him. "I beg your pardon," he said, "but I assume you prefer this to the alternative?" 

"Immeasurably," said Jack in a peculiar flat voice, and they fell silent, waiting for the Ferengi to catch up to them. 

It did not take long. "Idiot!" came a sibilant voice from the darkness. "Fool! To let them get away--" 

"_I_ let them get away?" said the second voice. "What did I have to do with it? This is _your_ plan, Vog. And I think I've had enough of your attitude. I may be a Daimon on holiday, but I am still a Daimon, and deserving of your respect!" 

Gwyn could feel the muscles of Jack's stomach tighten suddenly against his forearm; she was trying desperately not to laugh. 

"Of course, Daimon Prak," said Vog in conciliatory tones. "Of course you are. I was speaking to myself, dear friend. I was saying to myself, 'Idiot! Fool!'" 

_Right_, thought Gwyn, _and I believe you too._ But Prak seemed placated: he said in a calmer voice, "They can't have gotten far, not without light. And they might make a wrong turning at the junction--" 

"If they do, we'll be collecting them in pieces," said Vog. "That's a thirty-metre drop. No, we must catch them before they go that far. Follow me!" 

A blinding light slashed the darkness and glided on up the tunnel as Vog and Prak passed the alcove where Gwyn and Jack were hidden and scurried on. 

"Come on," whispered Jack a moment later. She slipped out of the crack and began to move forward, drawing him with her. 

"What are we doing?" asked Gwyn, startled. 

"We've got to see where they go, which way they turn. I was watching the light as they passed: the path is clear, so we can move quickly. We'll just have to hope they don't turn around." 

There was no time for argument. He took her hand again, and together they headed for the light. 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

"Wait!" said Prak suddenly. 

Vog, who was carrying the lamp, stopped in his tracks and turned back to face his partner in crime. "What is it, Daimon?" he asked. 

"What if they didn't come this way at all? Have you thought of that? They could have turned the wrong way out of the cave, and then--" 

"They would have gone straight past our cave," Vog said with the air of a Ferengi whose patience has been sorely tried. "You would have seen them, or heard them, easily." 

"Um," said Prak sagely. "Perhaps... not?" 

Vog's voice rose, took on a menacing tone. "Are you trying to tell me, dear friend Prak, that you were _not_ watching the entrance of the cave? That you were _not_ listening?" 

"Well... they were tied, were they not? And you were sure they could not escape..." Prak spread out his hands in a lame, pleading gesture. "I was very tired, friend Vog."

Vog gave an incoherent shriek. "Tired! I'll show you tired, you cretin! If they've fallen down the pit, do you have any idea how much profit we will lose?" 

"I don't believe this," murmured Gwyn in Jack's ear. "They're actually going to turn around and come back." 

"Then let's move quickly," said Jack, "before they see us. We've got to head back to that side tunnel we passed a minute ago. Perhaps they won't see us if we lie flat--" 

"Maybe, maybe not," said Gwyn. "But I have a better idea. Consider this..." He pressed his mouth closer to her ear and whispered his plan in slurred, barely audible syllables. Jack didn't catch all of it--her brain was whirling for some inexplicable reason, and her heart had begun to gallop--but she understood enough to know what she must do. She breathed her agreement, and they crept back down the tunnel, just ahead of the searching eye of the Ferengi's powerful light. 

The tunnel was just around the bend, and it was, as Gwyn had suggested, the perfect spot for what he had in mind. The light would not pick them out unless the Ferengi deliberately turned and looked--and they had already searched that corridor on the way up, so to do so again would be most unlikely. They could wait in the shadows, and then-- 

There was a grunt, a thump, and the light flew out of Vog's hands. Prak, who had been leading the way, whirled and drew his weapon--a nasty-looking disruptor--but too late. Jacqueline tackled him at the knees, and the gun went flying. He was much stronger than she had expected, and he fought with surprising vigor. Nevertheless, when her fingers found the soft spot at the back of his bulbous skull he went limp, shuddering. All she had to do was press a little harder, and she could kill him. She wouldn't, of course, but he had no way of knowing that. 

"All right," said Gwyn's voice in the darkness. "That's enough. Jacqueline, have you got him?" 

"Yes," she said. 

"Ha ha," Vog said brightly. "You are very clever. Well, you can let us go now; the joke is over." 

"Joke?" said Gwyn. 

"Yes! Oh, yes, did you not know? We were hired, my friend Prak and I, to play a joke on yourself and your lovely companion. We were told you found your holiday on Risa tedious, and that could not be permitted. So we were told to come up with an exciting adventure for you to participate in. You would never have been harmed, certainly not. It was all for pretend, from the very beginning. Ah ha ha." Vog was trying terribly hard to be jovial, and he nearly succeeded until a choking sound signaled that Gwyn had tightened his grip on the Ferengi's neck. 

"I think not, somehow," he said. "Oh, look: a stun phaser. For us, I presume, if we got out of hand? How nice. Are you sure you wouldn't like to try it first?" There was a flash of light, and Vog went down with a grunt. 

"Oh, no, no," whined Prak, "those things give me the worst headaches, you can't imagine--" 

Szzzzt. 

* * * 

"You very nearly got me with that thing," said Jack as the two of them hurried up the tunnel. "Did you get his disruptor? I couldn't find it." 

"Neither could I," said Gwyn, switching the light up higher and playing it along the walls and ceiling of the cave, revealing black rock laced with the glittering green and gold of boranium cyclide. "I'm afraid we'll have to take the chance that they'll find it and come after us when they wake up. I've got the stun phaser, but I wouldn't trust it for more than close range. Plus, it's a Ferengi phaser, and you never quite know how these things might be rigged--" 

"Do you hear something?" said Jack abruptly. 

"Yes. You." 

"No. Listen." 

They stopped, and spent a moment in silence. Distantly, the sound of wind rustling through leaves and grass could be heard above the dull plopping of water that echoed constantly in the cave. 

"We're almost there," said Gwyn. "Come on." 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

It was night when Jack and Gwyn emerged blinking from the damp darkness of the cave: the silver globe that was Risa's chief moon swung low above the trees, and the sky was crowded with stars. Together the escaped prisoners hurried down the path away from their prison, neither one sure of which direction they were going, nor particularly caring, for that matter. 

Jack was exhausted. Yet if they stopped, she knew, Prak and Vog would find them. The stun phaser they had used on the Ferengi was not particularly powerful: they would waken within a few minutes, and the chase would be on. And the Ferengi had the advantage: they knew the terrain, for one thing, and for another they probably had some sort of tricorder with them. 

"Maybe a search party will find us," she said breathlessly to Gwyn, but he shook his dark head. 

"We haven't been gone long enough. One day isn't going to make anybody on Risa suspicious. Plus, the Ferengi told them we were offworld, remember?" 

Jack sighed. "Yes, of course." 

"I know what you're wondering: did they have a tricorder, or not? I'd vote "no": at least I didn't feel one on Vog when I grabbed him. And they're going to have a hard enough time finding their way out of that cave without a light; it would be insane for them to try and go back down the tunnel to their hideout and retrieve their supplies from there." All the while as he was speaking he played the powerful beam of the lamp he held over the leaves and trunks ahead, as though searching for something. 

"What--" she began, and Gwyn said "There." 

To the left of the path, well off in the brush, part of a rock face leaped into view. Keeping the light steady, he turned from the path and headed for it. Jack followed, a little hesitantly. 

"Are you looking for more boranium cyclide?" she asked. "Because unless we find it, those rocks won't hide us." 

"If they have a tricorder, you mean." 

"If. Yes." 

"I don't care any more," said Gwyn flatly. "Well, not at present. I thought I saw a gap in those rocks that might be some sort of small cave. And if it is, I'm going to sleep in it." 

"I can't argue with the sentiment," said Jack, "though I would if I had two brain cells to rub together." 

"If you've got one, you're doing better than those Ferengi," muttered Gwyn, brushing wet bushes aside and plunging deeper into the undergrowth. 

They reached the rock face quickly, but Gwyn's "cave" turned out to be an irregular fissure in the stone about a metre wide and only slightly more than that high. Even a Ferengi would have found it uncomfortable: humanly speaking, it was impossible. 

"So much for that," said Jack. 

"Well, if it rains, at least we can keep our heads dry. Or our feet, whichever you prefer." Gwyn bent on hands and knees and peered into the little gap, shining the light ahead of him. "Funny, it's deeper than it looks." He moved forward, nearly scraping his head against the ceiling of the fissure. "There's a bend--" 

All at once there was a slithering sound of gravel, and Gwyn gave a strangled exclamation. Jack lunged for his fast- disappearing ankles, but her weariness had made her slow, and she just missed him. Heart pounding, she dropped to her knees and shouted, "Gwyn? _Gwyn?_" 

There was a long, awful silence. Then: 

"Ow," drifted up his deep, slurring voice from somewhere--it seemed a long way away. "That _really_ hurt." 

"Where are you?" 

"I fell into-- somewhere. The light's gone out. Just a second." There was a soft click, and the back of the fissure gleamed suddenly golden. "Actually, it's rather roomy in here. The floor is half sand and half--what is this stuff? Feathers?" 

"If something lives there-- Gwyn, come out." 

"Lazarus, come forth," murmured Gwyn absently. "No, there aren't any dangerous predators on Risa, remember? That's one of the things that makes it such a marvellously boring place to be. You might as well come in. There's no boranium cyclide that I can see, but it looks stout enough." 

"I can certainly come in, but can we get out?" 

"I don't see why not. It's not slimy in here like that other rotten cave. Here, I'll try." There was a scraping sound, followed by a grunt, and Gwyn's face appeared unexpectedly from the darkness. "Yes, no problem. Come in. Watch your step. Well, just come in legs first, and I'll catch you." 

"In a skirt? I think not." 

"Oh." For the first time, Gwyn sounded embarrassed. "Um. Well, then come in frontways and I'll do the best I can." 

Jack took a deep breath and crawled into the cave. The floor sloped downward, then dropped away suddenly, and she choked off a scream as she found herself falling forward into empty space. Then strong arms caught her, swung her around, and deposited her lightly on the floor of the high-vaulting cave. 

"Are you all right?" asked Gwyn. 

"Aside from having scraped my knees bloody, fine." Jack winced as she flexed her joints. "If I were a child, I'd be enjoying this. Since I'm not--" 

"Ergo, you are not a child," observed Gwyn. "That's about the highest level of logic I can manage at the moment." He folded himself up--at least that was how it looked: Jack had never noticed how tall he was before--into a sitting position, then stretched out on the floor with a little sigh. 

"Sand is terrible to sleep on," he said drowsily, "but it's better than rock. Or take some of these feather things. There's a pile--" and in another moment, to Jack's intense envy, he was asleep. 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

Jack awoke first, forcing aching muscles to work, pulling herself up out of the sand. With bleary eyes she gazed around the semi-darkness of the cave. Golden light filtered in from above: it must be morning. 

Moving her head restlessly from side to side to relieve the crick in her neck, she caught sight of Gwyn, still asleep on the far side of the cave. He lay on his back, face turned toward her, arm outstretched and hand half-curled as if beckoning. His sleep-rumpled hair, walnut-coloured and lightly streaked with silver, had fallen across one eye, and his thin lips were parted, showing a glimmer of white teeth amidst the shadow-darkness of beard and mustache. Most people looked like children in sleep, but Gwyn slept the way he moved--like a panther. Even motionless, there was a dangerous, silky physicality to him. Watching him, Jack felt a chill run through her. 

Yet she trusted him, now more than ever. Most men she knew, were they thrown together with any reasonably attractive woman under such circumstances, might have made some attempt at seduction. But Gwyn had kept a respectful distance all night. And it hadn't just been that he was exhausted: just a couple of hours ago, as she drifted out of sleep for the first time, she heard him stirring and knew he was awake, had even sensed his eyes on her, but just as she was sure he would move or speak, he turned over and went back to sleep. 

Of course, she thought with a sudden and inexplicable pang, that could just be that he didn't find her attractive. But if she understood him as well as she thought she did, that wouldn't be the thing that was holding him back. The same force that drove her, drove him also, and held them apart in certain ways even as it bound them together in others. 

She made herself stop looking at him--it wasn't easy-- and turned to gaze up at the source of the light flooding into the cave. There had to be a hole in the roof, or something-- 

Or not. Jack stopped and simply stared, her mouth open. Clinging to the roof was the strangest creature she had ever seen, shining with soft golden light. 

So it hadn't been sunshine after all. Looking at it, Jack wasn't sure whether it was an animal, or a bird, or what. Its body was almost perfectly round, covered with soft, iridescent feathers--or perhaps clumps of fur--identical to the ones that littered the floor. The head (assuming the thing had a head) wasn't visible, but four long, slender arms, white as a Victorian lady's, extended along the ceiling to each side. Slender fingers tipped with round adhesive pads clung to the crevices of the roof, holding the creature fast while it slept. All in all, Jack thought, it resembled an unusually large and beautiful tarantula. Until a round head shot out unexpectedly from the centre of the mass, blinking at her, and she gasped. The animal had a face like a waifish child, short-muzzled and big-eyed. Feathery whiskers twitched to either side of its pink and mobile snout as it gazed at her, apparently as startled as she was. 

"Gwyn," hissed Jack, keeping her eyes on the creature. "Wake up." 

The man stirred, murmured something unintelligible, and sat up, wiping sleep from his eyes. "It's not--" he began, then caught sight of the strange animal and stopped. "What in the name of all the saints is that?" 

"I was hoping you could tell me." 

The animal swung its head around on its short, telescoping neck and peered at Gwyn with an anxious expression. A short, musical twitter arose from its throat. Immediately three more heads shot out of the central mass, tiny copies of the first, twittering in reply. 

"Great Scott," said Gwyn blankly. "Either this animal operates on the four-heads-are-better-than-one policy, or we've stumbled into its nursery." 

"I think the latter," said Jack as one ball of fluff slowly detatched itself from the central mass, extended eight skinny arms identical to its parent's, and scuttled off along the wall toward the exit. 

"This I've got to see," said Gwyn. Swiftly he strode the length of the cavern, hauled himself up to the gap in the wall, and fielded the little creature before it could escape. The mother let out a trilling cry of dismay, but did not move to intervene. 

"Ow!" said Gwyn. "It's hot." Quickly he released the fluffball, who promptly scurried back along the ceiling to its mother. 

"Hot?" asked Jack, surprised. 

"Well, if I'd held it any longer it would have burned me. I really don't think I want to touch the parent." Gwyn dropped back down to the floor of the cave, wiping his hands on his dusty trousers. "I thought the light was just phosphorescence, but the heat seems to suggest otherwise." 

Jack bent and picked up one of the "feathers" from the floor. Like a bird's feather, it had a hollow rachis, but the rachis terminated in an unusual follicle-like root. She slipped it into the pocket of her skirt for future investigation. 

"We can ask the Risans about it when we get back," she said. "Is it morning yet, do you think?" 

"Don't know. Just a moment." Gwyn hauled himself up the wall and disappeared into the passageway. A moment later she heard his voice, thin and hollow-sounding, from outside: 

"It's not only morning, Jacqueline, it looks like about noon. We're lucky the Ferengi haven't found us." 

"Noon?" Jack was startled enough to be angry. "It can't possibly be noon. We only slept a few hours." 

"Yes, but what time was it when we left the cave? For all we know it could have been near dawn when we got in here. I don't have a chronometer and neither do you. However..." His lean, corded hand appeared unexpectedly from the crevice, waving the now-familiar infopadd. "We can always do our morning devotions. Where are you at the moment?" 

Jack smiled in spite of herself. "Second Thessalonians." 

"Oh, that's a shame." 

"Why, where are you?" 

The hand withdrew, and Gwyn's face appeared in its stead-- upside down. The mouth smiled, but the eyes met hers with startling candour. "Song of Solomon," he said. 

Jack turned away abruptly, but not before he'd seen her blush. 

"I'm just going to look around a bit," said Gwyn. "Call me if you need a hand up." He disappeared again. 

Jack wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, but not from cold. Maybe being around Gwyn Davies wasn't quite as safe as she'd thought. 

* * * 

According to Gwyn there was no sign of the Ferengi anywhere, and Jack dared to hope that there wouldn't be again. Well-rested but still weak with hunger, they left the cave and its intriguing occupant behind and journeyed on in what they hoped was the right direction. Yet after an hour or so it became clear that the path they trod was taking them deeper into the forest, not out of it. Jack sat down by the side of the trail, once more exhausted. 

"The Ferengi aren't the problem any more," she said. "I'm half starting to wish they'd find us." 

"Be careful what you wish for," said Gwyn. "I thought I heard something a couple of minutes ago." He was silent a moment. "There it is again. Do you hear it?" 

Jack shook her head. 

"Perhaps I'm imagining it, then." He dug his hands into his pockets, his face set. "At this point paranoia is starting to seem like a natural response." 

"We've got to find help somehow." 

"Indeed, but *how* is the question. Anything which might alert rescuers will also alert the Ferengi--if they're following us, that is. It's no good setting a fire: even if we could get it started in all this damp, the canopy would hold in the smoke." 

"We could set the stun phaser to overload." 

"That might help--if the Risans do routine scans of this area they'd detect the energy flare and investigate. But it would also leave us defenseless." 

"Do we have a better idea?" demanded Jack. 

Gwyn's mouth twisted. "You have a point. Very well." He unhooked the phaser from his belt and ran a thumb along its side, turning it to the highest setting. Carefully he placed it on the ground. "Come on!" he said, and dashed off into the trees. Jack leaped to her feet and whirled to follow. 

The blast came unexpectedly, too soon. The heat struck her from behind like a solid wall, and a shard of hot metal tore into her shoulder. Gwyn caught her, pulled her down, and she screamed. He gave a startled exclamation and pulled back his hand: the palm was slick with blood. Hers. 

"Jacqueline," he whispered. "I didn't know it would overload so fast--" 

She could not reply. Whimpering, she pressed her hands against her breast and stared at him in an agony of pain. Bright sparks fired her vision; she crumpled against him, slid to the ground; she heard him cry her name once more, and then the world turned over and faded entirely to black. 

* * * 

From: Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies 

Evening had fallen on Risa, and the damp, shadow-choked forest had taken on a distinct chill. Gwyn sat shivering by Jack's side, absently rubbing his arms for warmth. He had done everything within his power to keep his wounded companion warm, but pain and loss of blood had sent her into shock. If the Risans didn't find them soon, she might very well die. 

If only he could start a fire! But he had nothing to light it with, and every piece of wood he found was either green or wet anyway. He no longer worried about being found by the Ferengi: by now they had probably given up and redirected their efforts into getting off-world before they were arrested. All he had to worry about was keeping Jack alive. 

Her face, what little he could see of it beneath her tangled hair, was ghastly white, the skin tightly stretched over the fine bones like paper over a kite frame. Her eyes were closed, and through her parted lips the breath came in ragged gasps. Gwyn watched her long enough to know he'd watched her long enough. Despair swelling within him, he pressed his face against his drawn-up knees and prayed. 

How long he prayed, or even what he prayed, he didn't know, but all at once a sudden crunching in the underbrush made his head snap up, his eyes narrow in the keen suspicious look he used as a mask for fear. He'd been hearing that sound all day, as if someone--or something--were following them. "Who's there?" he demanded. 

A soft, melancholy twittering was the only response. Gwyn relaxed. Just some animal, that was all. Some silly beast blundering around in the twilight, not meaning any harm. 

Then he saw the light. 

"You say it did what?" the doctor demanded. 

Gwyn stared at his own lined, blue-shadowed face in the mirror and ran a hand over his eyes. "Just what I told you. It curled up beside her and kept her warm. The kittens--whatever you call them--lined up on one side of her, and the mother--parent, anyway--on the other side, and stayed there for hours. They disappeared just before you found us." 

"Look," said the doctor compassionately, "you've been ill, and you hadn't eaten for a couple of days--it's not surprising that you'd start imagining things. If you get some rest--" 

"Imagining--" Gwyn was speechless. He swung his legs around and slid off the table, staring at the young doctor. "Ask her when she wakes up, then. We found the creature--what did you call it?" 

"That _mythical_ creature," said the doctor with unnecessary emphasis, "is called a feyralen." 

"Very well, we found a mythical feyralen with three mythical offspring in a mythical cave in which we mythically slept all night before I mythically made a mythtake and set off a mythical explosion which just mythed me, but failed quite spectacularly to myth Captain Picard." He paused for breath. "And then, yes indeed, this mythical creature saved her life." 

"Well, she's alive, anyway," the doctor conceded. "And once she's slept for a day or so she'll be well on her way to a full recovery. Now I suggest, Dr. Davies, that you follow her example and get some sleep yourself?" He lifted his eyebrows meaningfully and indicated the door with a sweeping gesture. 

"I'll do that," said Gwyn. "After I eat a horse or two." He cast a glance back at Jacqueline, who lay motionless upon the central table, and started to leave the room. The doctor, seemingly anxious to rid himself of this dangerous madman who believed in benevolent feyralens, accompanied him all the way to the outer door of the complex. 

"You can visit her tomorrow," said the doctor patiently. "Late in the afternoon, I should think. Good night, Dr. Davies. Sleep well." He pulled the door shut behind him: it shut with an audible and very official click. 

Gwyn stood staring at the door a moment, then shrugged and headed back to his hotel. 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

"You know," said Jack thoughtfully, her fork poised over the small mountain of pasta on her plate, "I really thought I was going to die." 

"Considering the state you were in, I marvel that you were able to think at all," said Gwyn. "Could you pass the parmesan--or whatever that is by your elbow?" 

Jack handed the jar to him. "No, I'm serious. In fact, I was *sure* I was going to die." 

"Mm. It must have been a strange feeling." 

"Strange doesn't begin to describe it. I wasn't afraid, not really. I mean, I knew where I was going. But I felt ashamed. There's a lot I haven't done, haven't said, that I should have. I've tried to be the perfect Starfleet officer, but now I'm not so sure that's a good thing to be." 

"Why not?" 

Jack leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Because Starfleet, to use a familiar metaphor, is a whitewashed tomb." 

"Oh, unspeakable blasphemy," said Gwyn serenely, twining spaghetti around his fork. 

"Yes, yes, I know that's no surprise to you. But there are a lot of people who wouldn't be so happy to hear me say it." 

"I'm glad to hear you say it," said Gwyn, "because I've been thinking the same for a long, long time. But what do you intend to do about it?" 

"I don't know. I think I'm going to have to reassess my reasons for being in Starfleet, and what I want to accomplish while I'm there. I was raised to think of Starfleet as a philosophy, a way of life. I abandoned a big part of that years ago, but maybe it's time I let go of the rest." 

"You mean quit?" 

"No, no. I just mean learning to see it as what it is: just a job. I happen to be Captain of the _Enterprise_. In some ways that's a twenty-four hour responsibility and that's not going to change. But it's not everything I am, and it's time I started taking more care about the _real_ business of life. Do you know what I mean?" 

"Yeah." He was silent a moment, sipping his tea. Then abruptly he asked, "So what _is_ the real business of life?" 

"Philippians 1:20, 21. Look it up." 

"I don't need to," said Gwyn. 

Jack smiled and began to eat her spaghetti. 

"Jacqueline." 

She looked up. 

"I'm very glad you're alive," said Gwyn. 

* * * 

"The _Enterprise_ *what*?" 

Jack could scarcely believe her ears. She sat down hard on the edge of her bed with one shoe still in hand, the business of packing momentarily forgotten. "What do you mean, it's at Starbase 822? That's right near the Cardassian border!" 

"It gets better," said Gwyn. "Apparently it arrived in pieces. Not," he amended hastily as the colour drained from Jack's face, "destroyed. But they had to separate the saucer section from the engineering section. The one arrived about a week later than the other." 

"What in space were they doing?" 

"You sound like Admiral Hethor. Oh, you mean like 'what on earth', very clever. Well, it sounds like they tried a G-Warp test and it didn't come off quite right. Threw them right into the middle of Cardassian space, and crippled the ship. But everybody's alive, and those that aren't well at the moment, soon will be." 

"Dear heavens." Jack realized that she was still holding the sandal. She tossed it into the suitcase and stood up to snap the lid shut. "So who's going to pick us up?" 

"Well, that's the fun part. After the technicians at Starbase 822 finish helping them make the major repairs, they'll have to go straight back to Starbase 643 for an overhaul of the G-Warp systems. That should take them another week. Good morning, by the way. Did I say that? I had breakfast at my hotel, but we could get something down on the street if you haven't eaten yet." 

"So are you trying to tell me that we're stuck here for another whole week?" 

"Well, we could probably get a ride out to Starbase 643, but there's nothing for us to do there except unpack and sit around." 

Jack looked at him steadfastly. Then she picked up her suitcase, opened it, turned it upside down and dumped her belongings all over the floor. 

"Have you ever been horseback riding?" she asked. 

_Continued in Episode Nine: Epilogue_


	9. Epilogue

ST:3GEN EPISODE #9: Epilogue

EDITOR'S NOTE:  
Please see note at beginning of Episode One, "United We Stand". 

STAR TREK: THE THIRD GENERATION  
on Shadowlands BBS  
Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson  
Ver. 2.0 (93/01/01) 

EPISODE #9: Epilogue 

CHARACTERS/AUTHORS:  
Captain Jacqueline Picard..................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander Barnabas Cole....................Warren Postma  
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram  
Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Commander (Dr.) Gabriele Lester............Lori Hewson  
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly  
Lt. Commander Mac Moore....................Dan McMillan  
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson  
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist  
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler  
Lt. Konnu..................................Russ Foubert  
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson  


From: Lt. Maverint Slike 

> CHIEF ENGINEER'S LOG, SUPPLEMENTAL:  
Many hours have passed since the _Enterprise_'s stardrive section evaded the Wasilsi ship, and we are now docked at Starbase 822 undergoing additional repairs. The saucer section arrived shortly before us, and reconnection was completed at 1500 hours. Most of the _Enterprise_'s normal engineering staff have taken the opportunity for shore leave--which they certainly deserved for their superb efforts during our recent crisis--while the starbase's technicians complete the major repairs to the ship. >> END <<

Maverint sat back in his chair and sighed. 

"This chair isn't half as comfortable as mine," he said, reminded of snoozing in his 'lazy' chair in his cabin. "Still, being the only chair in my new office, I like it!" he concluded, smiling to himself. 

"Enjoying the spoils of power, are we?" 

"Yes Moriarty, WE are..." Mav retorted, not in the mood to be lectured by a sentient computer. "Don't you ever knock?" 

"Lieutenant, when one does not have physical substance, such an action would be exceedingly difficult." 

"Yeah yeah yeah..." 

"I was just passing through engineering and thought I would like to congratulate you on a fine performance earlier. You handled the situation and your people expertly." 

A little startled by this show of genuine commendation, Maverint sat still for a moment, not knowing just what to say. 

"...Thank you," he said finally, the sound of surprise clear in his voice. 

"You're welcome, my good man. Now if you will excuse me, I have some exercises I wish to run with the long range sensors. Good day, Lieutenant." 

"But Moriarty!..." 

"Yes?" 

"I meant to ask you earlier... _Moby Dick_, of all things?" 

"Is there something wrong with my choice, Lieutenant?" 

"It's so... so... old! Couldn't you have encoded some kind of modern classic like... like the Garushian Gravi-Drama of NightDance? Now there's a classic!" 

"Lieutenant, _Moby Dick_ is a true literary classic, not a trifle of actors with anti-gravity belts frolicking about the stage in scant attire!" 

"I wasn't complaining when I saw it..." Maverint smirked. 

"Neither was I..." came a sultry voice from the open door. 

"Oh, and by the way," said Moriarty, "I was going to mention your wife was on her way here." 

"Ample warning, Moriarty. Thank you." 

"Here to serve, sir. Now if you'll excuse me, I do have those exercises to run." 

The comm beeped and the room fell silent. 

"Hi, babe," Kate whispered. 

"Kate! Don't call me that here! Moriarty might be listening." 

"Mav, Moriarty could be listening when we're in the bedroom for all we know! What difference does it make?" 

"That thought doesn't help at all, you know." 

"Oh, you fuss-pot. Just like your father!" she teased. 

"Really? I was never told that before..." 

"Your mother never mentioned it?" 

"I never thought to ask." 

"Well, I like to do research on men I intend to marry..." 

"Oh? So there were others?" 

Kate smiled wickedly at Mav and walked over and sat on the edge of his desk. "How are you doing?" she asked, leaning over the top of the desk and ruffling Mav's hair with her right hand. 

"You have such a way of avoiding questions, you know that?" 

"Mmmmhhmmm..." Kate hummed, stroking Mav's hair into little circles. 

"Well, things are all right now, all things considered. Everybody cheered when shore leave was announced. You'd think they never had it before..." 

"Not after serving aboard the fabled _Enterprise_, they haven't..." 

"True... well, as to the ship, the warp drive is totally back on line and the main sensor arra..." 

"I never asked about the ship! How are YOU doing?" she chuckled. 

"Me? Oh, I'm fine, I guess. A little tense from everything that's gone on lately, but otherwise, fine." 

"Good. I'd hate to think that might have been you lying on that biobed in Mac's place..." 

"I know," Mav said. "Me too." Standing up, he took Kate's hand and they walked out of his office. 

"So how long do you suppose you'll have such a nice office?" Kate asked, leaning her head on Mav's shoulder. 

"I don't know. Just until Mac recovers fully, I guess." 

"That won't be for a while. I guess I'll have to suffer with your inflated ego until then." 

"Oh, you're really funny!" 

Kate laughed and gave Mav a little squeeze as they walked into the turbolift. 

"Deck Ten," Mav said. "I need a drink..." 

* * * 

From: Counsellor T'Pryn 

T'Pryn was tidying up her office when the door chime sounded. "Come in," she said without looking up. 

There was a soft hissing as the door slid aside. Someone walked into the room, stood silent a moment, then sat down on the couch behind her. 

"I will not be long," she said to whoever-it-was. 

"That's fine," said Barnabas Cole. 

T'Pryn stopped, put the book she had been holding down on the desk, and turned slowly to face the First Officer. "Commander," she said. "I did not expect to see you here. Is this an official matter?" 

"No," said Barnabas. 

"How may I help you?" 

"I don't have the slightest idea," replied her silver- skinned visitor, a snap of irritation in his voice. "Isn't that your job to figure out, not mine?" 

T'Pryn watched him out of her green eyes for the space of ten heartbeats. Then she gathered her blue skirts about her and moved to sit in the chair next to him. 

"Very well," she said. "What don't you wish to talk about?" 

"Don't you mean what *do* I wish to talk about?" 

"No," she said calmly. "I am asking which subjects you would prefer to avoid." 

Barnabas looked at her sidelong. Then he said in a flat voice, "Okay. I don't want to talk about my accident." 

"Good," said T'Pryn. "Then let's start there." 

His jaw tightened. "No, Counsellor, I *meant* it." 

"I know. And I also mean what I say. If you choose to speak, you may be assured that nothing you tell me will ever leave my confidence. If you are not prepared to speak with me, then you are free to leave. It is up to you, Commander. But I will not change my methods." 

Barnabas gazed at her for a long time without speaking. Then he said, "You're a tough one, aren't you?" 

"I might not choose that particular adjective," said T'Pryn with a slight smile, "but the sentiment is accurate. Pain," she added more seriously, "will do that for you. Now, Commander, shall we talk?" 

* * * 

It was well over an hour later when Barnabas left the room. T'Pryn watched him steadily until the door had closed behind him; then she sighed, and ran a hand over her face in a gesture of weariness she would never have permitted herself in public. She had taken a big gamble with the Commander, though he would never know it: she had not been sure that forcing him to confront his most hated memories immediately was the wisest thing to do. He could very well have stormed out, and she would have lost any chance of speaking to him again. Yet instinct--a most un-Vulcan trait, but useful nonetheless--had told her to take a firm line, and now it was clear that the impulse had been a good one. 

She rose from her seat and moved to the replicator. "Tea, green, 22 degrees centigrade," she said. The familiar mug materialized, and she carried it back to the couch, cupping it in her hands, savoring its warmth. Yes, it wasn't easy to be a Counsellor, and harder still to be a Counsellor and a Vulcan both, and hardest of all to be Counsellor of the flagship of the Federation. But even as she thought about the events of the past few weeks since she had first boarded the _Enterprise_, with all their terrifying dangers and surprising joys, she had to admit that there was nothing she would rather do, and nowhere she would rather be. 

Life was much more than a series of emotionless logical puzzles. Life was an experience, and one T'Pryn meant to savor for herself in all its complexity. That would surely mean pain as well as pleasure, but that was a price T'Pryn was prepared to pay. Again, an illogical choice. But a wise one. 

The business of tidying the office could wait. T'Pryn stretched out on the couch, leaned her head against the pillows, and closed her eyes. 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

The _Enterprise_ entered Risan orbit as of Stardate 59841.3, and by this time Jack was definitely ready for it. The first thing she saw when the sparkling blurriness of transport cleared was the familiar faces of her senior officers smiling at her. It was a welcome sight, indeed. 

"So," said Barnabas Cole, his silver eyes amused, "did you enjoy your holiday?" 

"Define _enjoy_," she said with a wry smile, and stepped off the transporter pad. She was conscious of Gwyn following her, but she was careful not to look at him. In a measured voice she said, "Allow me to introduce the Chief Cyberneticist of Starbase 643, Commander Gwyn Davies, who will be with us for some time while he pursues independent studies. Lieutenant Slike--" she turned to face a quizzical Maverint--"will you please show Dr. Davies the Engineering section and provide him a lab in which he may work unhindered?" 

"Certainly," said Mav. "Will you need an assistant, Dr. Davies?" 

"I'm not sure yet," said Gwyn, "but I'll let you know when I do. Captain, may I abscond with your Chief Engineer? I'm anxious to get to work." 

"Yes. You are dismissed, Dr. Davies, Lieutenant Slike." Jack turned her back on them as they went out the door, determined not to show any more interest in Gwyn's activities than she would in anyone else's--indeed, less interest, if possible. It appeared she had succeeded thus far, anyway: the eyes of her fellow officers held nothing but their usual polite regard, no dangerous curiosity to contend with. "Well," she said to the remaining officers as the doors closed. "I believe our next project is to get the ship ready for the signing of the Federation-Romulan peace treaty. Is that not correct, Centurion Salek?" 

"It is," said the Romulan. "The ceremony is to be held in one week's time." 

"I've already laid in a course for Earth," said Barnabas. "We're to pick up the President and several Admirals there, and then to rendezvous with the _Paladin_ at Starbase 65 on the edge of the Neutral Zone. The Romulan ship _Kordan Vos_ will meet us there and escort us to Romulus." 

"Excellent," said Jack. "Then let's get to work. Counsellor," she began, turning to T'Pryn, "I'd like you to analyze the schedule for the ceremony and give me a report on any anticipated diplomatic difficulties and how best they might be resolved. I'll need the report in two days. Centurion Salek, I'd like you to be ready to give a tour of the ship to your Romulan superiors. And, if you don't mind, I'd also like you to help me brush up on my Rihannsu, which I fear is rather schoolgirlish at this point." 

"Aye, sir," said Salek. 

"Lieutenant Commander D'Pyrann, I'd like you to work with Moriarty and Chief Engineer Slike on analyzing what went wrong with our initial G-Warp test. I've been informed that some adjustments were made to the nacelles, but I'd still like to run some simulations and look for any more possible anomalies. I'd also like a level three diagnostic run on the primary systems." 

The Borg inclined his head to her. "I will inform my co- workers of your wishes, Captain Picard." 

"Good. Lieutenant Konnu, continue your scheduled security drills, and prepare a holodeck demonstration sequence for the teams to run through when Mr. Salek gives his tour. Dr. N'Dok, when you have time I'd like a report on the physical effects of our G-Warp test on the crew, and an update on the condition of all injured personnel delivered to my Ready Room by 1400 hours." 

"Will do, sir," said James cheerfully, and Konnu made an assenting noise in his throat. 

"Excellent. Number One, let's go to the Bridge." Jack paused a moment, looking around the transporter room, and a small smile touched her mouth. 

"It's good to be back," she said. 

* * * 

Jack was in her Ready Room, looking over the Acting Captain's logs Barnabas and Konnu had compiled in her absence, when the door beeped. "Come," she said, and rose from her seat as the slump-shouldered figure of Mac Moore struggled in. His hands were still bandaged, and there were lines on his face that had not been there before. 

"Captain," he said. "May I speak with you?" 

"Certainly," said Jack. "Please sit down." 

Mac gratefully lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the desk, and Jack took up her own seat again. "What may I do for you, Lieutenant?" 

"Ah, well, I'm not quite sure where to begin." He took a deep breath. "Maybe I'd just better give it to you straight, sir. I'd like a transfer." 

Jack's brows shot up. "The reason?" 

He shook his head sadly. "I'm getting too old for this, Captain. It's been an honor to serve on the flagship of the Federation for as long as I have, but I've come to see that this ship is bound to see a lot of action and get into a lot of scrapes, and I'm not as quick as I used to be. I thought I could handle it, but this accident proved me wrong. Perhaps it's best if I step aside and let younger hands take over." 

"Did you have anyone specific in mind?" 

"Aye, as a matter of fact, I did. Lieutenant Slike is a fine engineer, Captain, and he's proven he can make a fine Chief Engineer as well. I'd like to see his good work rewarded." 

"And what will you do, Mr. Moore?" 

"Well, I had a wee chat with the new fellow, Dr. Davies, and he said they might like a new face in the cybernetics lab at Starbase 643. I've always had a warm spot in my heart for cybernetics, and it seemed to me that might be just the ticket, at least for a while. Maybe I'll go back to working a starship when I've had a chance to rest, but right now I think I'd like to keep my feet firmly planted for a while, so to speak." 

Jack smiled. "It sounds ideal, I must confess. Mr. Moore, you've done a fine job on the _Enterprise_ so far, and I will be very sorry to lose you. Thank you for all your hard work." She stood up and extended a hand to the grizzled engineer, who took it and shook it warmly. 

"Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your understanding. And what of the lad Maverint?" 

"Your suggestion will have to be given due consideration, and discussed with the First Officer," said Jack. "But I'll tell you frankly, I think it's a good idea." 

Mac beamed. "That it is. Permission to leave, sir?" 

"Permission granted." 

Jack watched him make his halting way out of the room, then shook her head a little sadly and returned to her work. 

The door beeped again barely fifteen seconds later. "Come," said Jack, surprised. 

She had thought it would be Mac returning to add some final comment, but the officer in the doorway could hardly have been less like Mac if she'd tried. "Gabriele!" exclaimed Jack, leaping to her feet. "Come in, please, and sit down. I've hardly had a chance to talk to you since you came back on board. How's your research coming?" 

Gabriele smiled, smoothing her black hair back from her face with one slim hand. "As well as may be expected. Right now I'm analyzing mitochondria in the cells of the Borg cerebrum, attempting to figure out what role they play in maintaining the collective consciousness. Nikctalos has been most cooperative, and I believe Dr. Davies is interested in the project as well, since there appear to be cybernetic components in Borg cell structure." 

"Good heavens," said Jack blankly. "You don't fool around, do you?" 

"I never did," said Gabriele. "Not when it came to work, anyway. But for some reason, you've just reminded me of Admiral Thompson. Did you realize he's been retired?" 

"Because of you?" 

"Myself and others. It appears the Admiral has been in the business of 'cultivating certain officers in hopes of personal reward' for quite some time. When the business came to light, he decided it was in his best interests to quietly remove himself from the public eye, so to speak." 

Jack smiled wryly. "A prudent decision. So what does that mean for you, now?" 

"Well, just last night I was offered command of the _Sirocco_." 

"Really? Gabriele, that's wonderful! Are you going to take it?" 

Gabriele shook her head. "I've already turned it down. Working these past few weeks in the lab has reminded me that biology is my first love. Now, if somebody were to offer me an administrative research posting on some starbase, *that* I might consider. But I'll have to wait and see." 

"You know," said Jack, "when I first came on board this ship, I had no idea things would turn out this way. But I'm glad to see you're happy." 

"I am, you know," mused Gabriele. "It's strange, but I am." She was silent for a moment, then looked up at Jack. "You seem different, too. More relaxed -- no, not just relaxed. Glowing. Your holiday seems to have done you good." 

"If I told you about my holiday," said Jack, "you wouldn't believe it. But when everything was added up, I would have to say that I did have a good time, after all." 

"Well, you're in for a little more holiday just about now," said Gabriele. "Your shift's nearly over." 

Jack glanced up at the chronometer. "You're right, you know--and I'm supposed to be down on the holodeck." She rose from her chair. "Gabriele, I'm glad you dropped by, and I hope you do find that research post you're looking for. I'll definitely keep my eyes and ears open for you." 

"Thanks," said Gabriele. "I appreciate that, Captain." 

"Oh no," warned the red-haired woman as her former commanding officer turned to leave. "To you, I'm Jack." 

Gabriele smiled. "We were a good team, weren't we?" 

"We certainly were," said Jack. 

* * * 

From: Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies 

Roxanne sat at the open window, working embroidery with nimble fingers. Her russet tresses were drawn away from her face and plaited in a soft crown atop her head, leaving only a few smooth curls to tumble down upon her white shoulders. The afternoon sunlight shining through the window streaked her hair with fire, gleamed richly on the sumptuous folds of her gown of golden silk. She sang softly through half-parted lips: "Je suis seul, et je ne pense qu' a toi..." 

Watching her through the half-open door, Cyrano found his heart pierced anew by hopeless desire. For a man in his unique and grievous position, such longings could only end in grief: he knew that now. Yet he must speak to her, though reason itself cried out against so rash a deed. He lifted his hand and knocked. 

"Yes?" she said, turning toward him. He stepped out of the shadows, letting the light fall upon his face, and saw her blue eyes widen in surprise. Almost she laughed--but quickly bowed her head to hide the smile, and when she lifted her face again her expression was serene. 

"Dear cousin Cyrano," she said. "What brings you here? Please, enter and make yourself at home. I am only working at my embroidery; the company of your wit will be a most pleasant relief." 

"I have no wit today," he said, gazing sadly down the length of his preposterous nose. 

"No wit! My dear friend, what can be wrong?" 

He did not answer. With measured steps he approached the window, leaned against the casement and gazed through the glass at the teeming streets below. He heard the dry whispering of her skirts as she rose from the chair, but he did not move until he felt the gentle pressure of her hand upon his arm. 

"Please," she said, "tell me, what is it?" 

"I was attacked today," he said. 

"Attacked!" 

"Yes, most foully." 

"Where?" 

"In my own room, as I sat at my desk." 

"Are you wounded?" 

"In the heart. But no," he said, half-turning, "it is not fatal." 

"Who would do such a thing?" 

"It was a sonnet," he murmured. "A most cunning and pernicious creature, and it fell upon me unawares. Here, examine the evidence for yourself." He pulled a piece of paper out of the inner pocket of his vest: she took it from him in silence, and turned it over in her fine-boned hands. 

As he listened to her silence it suddenly became very clear to him that this would be a good time to count the bricks around the fountain in the square. It was hard at this distance, of course. Perhaps he had better go and do it from some better vantage point. He turned toward the door, but her fingers had curled around his sleeve so tightly that he could not break away. 

"You," she breathed. "You wrote this?" 

"It's never happened before," he said. "A most unfortunate accident. Good day." He tried once more to pull away from her, but she would not let go. 

"No," she said. "No, you don't understand. This is beautiful. I'd thought at first it might be Donne--" 

"What? That good?" 

"Yes. That good. But of course it's yours. I know all Donne's sonnets. Gwyn--" 

"Cyrano," he corrected gently. 

"I'm sorry, Commander," she said, "but this has ceased to be a game." She pulled off his artificial nose and threw it out the window, ignoring the immediate and noisy sensation it created in the street below. "I thought of a hundred reasons why you might have asked me to be Roxanne. You wanted someone real to play the scene with and I was the only woman you knew well enough to ask, I'm half French already, you always imagined Roxanne with red hair...anything but this." 

She folded up the paper with the utmost care, slipped it into the bodice of her gown. With the slow stateliness necessitated by the sheer volume of her skirts she walked away from him. Her head was bent, but whether in grief or anger or mere contemplation, he could not tell. 

He followed her automatically--if he had stopped to think about it he would never have had the courage. "Jacqueline," he said, catching her arm and turning her back toward him. "Do you really think so little of yourself?" 

"Gwyn, I am not the sort of woman men write sonnets to!" There was a high colour in her face, and her eyes gleamed as though she fought back tears. "But now you've gone and written me one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read, and what's worse, you've never written poetry before. Tell me, what on earth am I to make of that?" 

That was it. There was no going back now. He slid a finger under her chin, tilted her face up toward his. "This," he said, and kissed her. 

The kiss was brief, but effective. He drew back, holding her at arm's length, and broke into an involuntary grin: her face was as red as her hair. 

"You see," he said, "I was angry at Cyrano. Maybe because he and I were too much alike: both of us madly in love with a beautiful woman, and too fearfully proud to say so. Finally I told myself I was going to play this scene with you, the scene Cyrano should have played in the beginning. As soon as I'd made up my mind to do it, the sonnet attacked me. But even if it hadn't, you were doomed, my Roxanne--why do you look so frightened?" 

"Because I am," she said. 

Cold fear knifed his heart, sliced up his spine. What if he'd read this scene all wrong, and kissing her had been a violation? What if, like Roxanne with Cyrano, she saw him only as a friend? "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't--" 

"No," said Jack hastily. "Don't say that. What you did was beautiful." 

"All of it?" 

"All of it." The hectic colour in her cheeks was beginning to subside: she smiled, and was herself again. "But you surprised me." 

"I think you surprised *them* a lot more," said Gwyn, moving back to the window. He leaned out of it and gazed down at a sea of white, startled faces. "I beg your pardon, gentles all," he called, "but has anyone chanced upon a flying nose in recent memory?" 

Jack gave a very un-Roxanne-like splutter and collapsed into a chair. He raised an eyebrow at her in mock reproach before returning his attention to the window. "Come, come," he said. "Has no one found my nose? Shall I offer a reward?" 

"Here, sir," piped up a tremulous voice, and a peasant boy emerged from the crowd, holding up the oddly-shaped piece of synthetic tissue in one grubby hand. 

"Good lad," said Gwyn. "Well, then, deliver!" The child hesitated, then tossed it up to him; he caught it deftly and presented it to the wondering crowd with a flourish. 

"If the real Cyrano de Bergerac finds you have been impersonating him, sirrah, you will live to rue your wit at the end of his rapier!" snapped a red-faced cadet, glowering. 

"I am Cyrano de Bergerac," replied Gwyn. "I assure you there is no other. The Blessed Virgin has delivered me of my deformity by her miraculous powers, and now I wish to keep this sad and swollen lump of flesh as a souvenir. It will keep me humble. Good day." He drew back, closed the window, and turned to see Jack shaking with laughter. 

"Well," he said archly, "I was technically correct, wasn't I?" 

"So I'm the Blessed Virgin? I was only just getting used to being Roxanne." She wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. "You are a fiendishly clever man, Gwyn Davies." 

"I thought I'd outclevered myself for a moment there," he said, moving to her and kneeling down by her side. "I'm glad to see I wasn't mistaken about you after all." 

"No," she said. "You weren't mistaken. But--" she drew herself up in the chair, and was Captain Picard again-- "we'll have to work this out, you and I. It would be best if we could keep this from the rest of the crew. Not that we need to lie about it, but--" 

"--to refrain from volunteering information," finished Gwyn. "I understand completely." 

"Good. And of course, our work and our relationship should be kept strictly separate. Fortunately I don't have you under my direct command, so there shouldn't be any conflict of interest, but when we're on duty--" 

"--no kissing in the turbolift?" 

Her mouth formed a straight line. "Gwyn, are you intending to take this seriously or not?" 

"I am absolutely serious," he said, taking her hand and kissing it distractedly. "I'm just not particularly sane at the moment. Go on." 

"I can't go on when you're kissing me like that." 

"Oh. Well, then, don't go on." He rose slowly, drawing her up with him, and pulled her into his arms. She didn't resist, though she did give a sigh of exasperation just before his lips found hers. 

Kissing Jack was easy--too easy. It could become habit- forming. He let her go reluctantly, and watched a slow smile curve her mouth as she reached up to smooth back the strands of his French wig. "It's a good thing I was already in love with you," she said. "Because you look absolutely awful in that thing." 

"Even without the nose?" 

"Even without the nose." 

"I'm wounded." 

"Good. You pout so beautifully." She slipped out of his arms and turned to face the far wall. "Computer, exit program." 

"Are we done already?" asked Gwyn as the door materialized and slid open to reveal the corridor beyond. 

"I'm afraid so," said Jack. "I've got a Rihannsu lesson in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll take me at least twenty minutes just to get out of this gorgeous confection. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable whalebone corsets are?" 

"I'll tell you what," said Gwyn. "Next time, *I'll* play Roxanne." 

She was still laughing when they left the holodeck. 

* * * 

From: Captain Jacqueline Picard 

> CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE 59844.8: The _Enterprise_ entered Earth's orbit at approximately 1400 hours. The President and other delegates attending the signing of the Federation-Romulan peace treaty have beamed aboard and been assigned to their quarters for the journey. Tomorrow we will set course for Starbase 65, to rendezvous with the U.S.S. _Paladin_ and the Romulan Warbird _Kordan Vos_, and from there to Romulus for the signing of the treaty. According to our newly appointed Chief Engineer Maverint Slike, the _Enterprise_ is once more operating at peak efficiency, and no further technical difficulties are anticipated...

The door twittered. Jack uncurled herself from the sofa and rose to answer it. "Come," she said. 

"...they told me," replied a familiar voice as the door slid open, "Pa rum-pa-pum-pum." Gwyn flashed her a smile, glanced both ways down the corridor to make sure nobody was watching, and slipped into her quarters. When the door had closed again behind him he said, "Did I interrupt you?" 

"I was just finishing my log. What with the President and all those inquisitive Admirals on board, I hadn't had time to do it during my shift." Jack began to yawn before she could stop herself, and quickly covered her mouth with one hand. "Sorry. It's been quite the day. Are you sure nobody saw you coming here?" 

"Quite sure. And listen--I've had a little chat with my doppelganger." 

Jack was instantly awake again. "What?" 

"Moriarty. Yes, he told me what he'd done. But when we talked on the holodeck he was at least good enough to choose a different form: there's nothing more awkward than talking to oneself." Gwyn walked lightly around her, kissing her cheek

as he passed, and sat down on the sofa. Jack followed, curled up beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

"Why did you talk to him?" she asked. 

"Because he's the only one who can possibly keep our relationship from becoming public knowledge. If anybody suddenly wants one of us when we're off duty, and happens to ask the computer where we are, what are the odds that we'll be in the same place? That could be awkward. So I petitioned Moriarty to help us keep our little secret." He slid his arms around her waist almost as an afterthought, and put his chin on the top of her head. "He was surprisingly obliging. In an absolute crisis situation, of course, he might have to break the promise, but that's a risk I'm afraid we'll have to take." 

"Even at that, it's a great deal better than I'd even thought to hope for," said Jack. 

"At least," said Gwyn reflectively, "we wouldn't have to worry about them finding us in bed together. Which is more than could be said for any other clandestine relationships which might exist on this ship." 

Jack felt her face grow warm. "I didn't think of that." 

"I wish I could say the same," said Gwyn, and Jack's cheeks grew hotter still. Hating herself for doing it, but knowing at the same time that he would understand, she slipped out of his arms and moved to another chair. He looked after her resignedly, and a little smile touched his mouth. 

"Sorry. I won't stay long; I'm not that foolish. Besides, I have a date with Gabriele in a few minutes; she wants me to look at her mitochondria." 

Jack burst out laughing. "Is that the xenobiological equivalent of etchings?" 

"Mercy, I hope not," said Gwyn, and the smile became a grin. "Speaking of scientific discoveries, I just remembered something." 

"What?" 

"Remember how the Risans flatly refused to believe we'd seen a feyralen in that cave?" 

"Yes, and we couldn't think of any way to convince them." 

"But we did have a way." Gwyn rose to his feet. "Mind if I look in your closet?" 

"Why on earth-- oh!" Jack's eyes widened. She leaped to her feet and ran past him into her bedroom. Yanking open the closet, she pulled out the long blue skirt she'd worn during their ordeal. It was tattered and filthy, and should have been thrown out long ago, but she had kept it by way of a souvenir. She reached into the pocket and pulled out the soft white feather, running a finger along its iridescent rachis. 

"Mythical beast indeed," said Gwyn softly from behind her. 

"'There are more things in heaven and earth, Risans,'" quoted Jack, "'than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'" 

"And that applies to a good many things more significant than feyralens," Gwyn observed. "Sometimes I'd like to shout that from the rooftop of Federation Headquarters." He reached over her shoulder and took the feather out of her hand. She half-turned to watch his frowning face as he studied it. 

"I think," he said at last, "that we should leave the feyralen in peace. Let the Risans think we were just hallucinating." 

"I think so too," said Jack. She took the feather back from him and laid it carefully on her bedside table. 

"Yet another of our shared secrets," Gwyn said as they walked back into the main room. "But surely not the last." He moved to the door, stopped, and turned back to face her. "Good night, Jacqueline," he said. 

"Good night," said Jack, closed her eyes as he kissed her, and when she opened them again he was gone. Slowly she walked over to the couch and sat down again, her face turned this time to the large viewport and the stars swimming by in the darkness outside. 

It seemed hard to believe that less than half a year ago she had been a lonely, frustrated newcomer to this ship, finding in those same stars nothing more than the reflection of her own uncertainty. Now she saw comfort, and promise, and a wealth of possibilities. 

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord," Jack quoted softly, "'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" 

That future might or might not lie with Starfleet, she knew, for it might not be long before the faith she and Gwyn shared made it impossible for them to remain. That thought would have terrified her once, but now she accepted it freely. If and when that day came she would move on, and look for new opportunities. But until then, Jacqueline Picard was Captain of the _Enterprise_, and--impossible as it had once seemed--she was happy. 

Jack uncurled herself from the sofa, dimmed the lights, and padded off to bed. 

THE END

_A/N: Thanks for reading this story! I hope you enjoyed it. But whether you did or didn't, please review it and let me know what you thought. _


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